Acts of Courage
by CaptainLyssa
Summary: Nothing is as you believe, everything has changed. Val Jean and Voyager meet in the DMZ. Their initial contact is less than satisfactory. When Tuvok is reunited and Janeway ordered into the Badlands to capture Tom Paris, she begins to wonder why. The answers come slowly, especially when a displacement wave strands both ships seventy thousand light years from the Alpha quadrant.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

 **AN:** I have spoken with my father, who is ex-special forces, about the numbers of officers on a vessel with a crew of 140-150 people. I have a friend who works for the military at a naval base and has been a wonderful source of information. It seems to me the structure of Voyager's crew is completely inappropriate. Memory Alpha lists at least 3 other Lt. Commanders on Voyager at the time of the ships disappearance. If that were so, why did Chakotay become the first officer? And just how many Ensigns and Lieutenants can one vessel have? Then again, why would you make an Ensign, straight out of the academy part of the senior crew?

* * *

"Ensign Kim," Captain Kathryn Janeway threw the order over her shoulder as she took up her customary position in the middle of the tri-level bridge. _Voyager_ prepared to contact the ship currently holding stationary before them on their main view screen, "Hail the _Val Jean_."

"Yes, Captain," the fluorescent green officer snapped to attention as his hands worked the station before him.

Six days previously, Starfleet had given _Voyager_ orders to find this particular Maquis raider and apprehended the crew. Ten days before that, Admiral Patterson approached the newly commissioned Captain, informing Janeway that her Security Officer had failed to make all three assigned contacts. One month ago, Kathryn visited Vulcan, and Tuvok's family, to explain the dangerous mission he'd agreed to undertake on behalf of the Federation. It had only been six weeks in total since _Voyager_ exited space dock and Kathryn Janeway took command of her first Starship. At this moment, it seemed as if a lifetime had occurred in between the first and last events.

Waiting for the image to appear, the Captain wondered who, or what her bridge crew would see. If Tuvok had managed to infiltrate the Maquis, his orders were to attach himself to former Lt. Commander Chakotay's cell. They had been devastating against the Cardassian's, due in no little part to that man teaching advanced tactical training at the academy before leaving to defend his home colony after his family were decimated in a Cardasian raid. It had been rumoured he preferred to recruit ex-Starfleet personnel and ran his ship as if still in the service.

"Image is on screen, Captain," Ensign Kim stated. Like the rest of the bridge crew, all eyes turned to the picture.

"Well if it isn't Kathryn Janeway," the visage of a young, self-confident man smirked when he suddenly appeared on the forward screen of _Voyager_. His representation took up the entirety of the display making it impossible for the Federation vessel view the Maquis ship's senior officers or any of their crew. It was a deliberate move on the communications officer's part to limit the transfer of information between vessels. "I see by the extra pip you've finally made captain, Captain."

"Mr. Thomas Paris," Janeway offered in a condescending tone. Kathryn's arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow arched as she glared at the egoistical ex-Starfleet officer. It was impossible not to know his identity. Kathryn Janeway had spent years serving under his father and the younger version resembled Owen Paris incredibly well.

Bristling under Paris's unwavering scrutiny, Lt. Commander Cavit came to stand beside his superior officer. He directed his own scorn-filled glare at the image on _Voyager's_ main screen. "I'm sure Admiral Paris will be delighted when he reads this report," the executive officer stated arrogantly. It earned him a scowl from his Captain.

"After my Court Marshall," Thomas Eugene Paris, once the golden child of Starfleet and on the way to being one of the youngest captains in history, scoffed in a patronising voice, "I doubt dear old dad will give your account the time of day, especially after mentioning my name. Try Admiral Patterson, I'm sure he'll have more interest in hearing just how far I've fallen from grace."

"Just how far is that, Mr. Paris?" Questioned Captain Janeway. When the blue eyed blond, in his late twenties allowed his orbs to sparkle and lips to curl at the edge in a delighted smile, Kathryn knew he played with her. "I see you received a promotion of sorts, captaining a Maquis vessel."

"Oh, no, Captain," Tom allowed his lips to curl into a sardonic grin, "I'm only the first officer. There is so much more potential for advancement out here, in the demilitarised zone. You know, the Cardassian's being what they are." He shrugged making light of the situation as only Tom Paris could.

"You're operating outside Starfleet's jurisdiction and in breach of the Cardassian-Federation Treaty," Janeway reminded poignantly.

"True," Tom agreed easily, "but so are you and your vessel, unless you have Cardassian permission to enter this region of space, not that they conform to the treaty. So, tell me, Captain, between friends, what brings you to these parts?"

"I was looking for your ship," Janeway stated easily, unfazed by her opponents posturing.

"My ship," a chuckle escaped the young man's control. Paris turned deadly serious in an instant, "or a particular individual who tried to infiltrate this crew?" Pausing to let that kernel of information sink in, Paris's eyes zeroed in on Voyager's Captain. "I suggest you lower your shields, speak with your transporter chief and accept a surprise package that will arrive in three seconds."

"Mr. Kim," Janeway indicate he did as Paris requested.

Harry understood and erected a level five containment field around the transporter pad.

"Captain," a voice issued from the internal com system, "Mr. Tuvok has been beamed aboard."

Worry flashed across Kathryn's visage, before demanding, "what is his condition?"

"I am well, Captain," Tuvok answered unemotionally. "I have been treated in accordance with Federation Policy while on _Val Jean_."

"Report to the bridge, Lt. Tuvok," she ordered.

With a wave of her hand, the Captain signalled Ensign Kim to cut all com traffic. She didn't want to give anything away to the Maquis. However, Tom Paris was a five year veteran of Starfleet, in the command stream. He understood, even expected her every move. Mr. Paris had a stellar career, promoted to second bridge officer on Exeter two years after graduating and was well on his way to further advancement. That was before Caldik Prime. Even at his Court Marshall, the pilot decried his innocents, maintaining he hadn't made a mistake that caused the deaths of three officers. Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris had been dishonourably discharged and all but forgotten, until today.

 _Looks like the Maquis could use someone of his considerable talent,_ Janeway thought as she watched the subtle emotions cross the younger man's face. _If I hadn't served with his father, I wouldn't know what was going on in that mind of his. Tom's deliberately playing with me. The question is why? What am I supposed to learn from this confrontation? I know he's trying to communicate something but I'm missing it._

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok's response brought Janeway back to the moment.

"Ensign Kaplan," she smirked, understanding Voyager was the most technologically advanced vessel in the current fleet and could pack more of a punch than the crew of _Val Jean_ would expect, "I want a tractor beam on that Maquis vessel. Have a security detail ready to beam the crew directly to the brig. Mr. Paris is to be separated from the rest of the Maquis."

"Oh, Captain," Tom shook his head regretfully, "that's not very nice, and it's going to force me to play a little rough. I hope your bright, new, shiny ship doesn't get damaged in the plasma storms of the Badlands."

Making a signal of his own, the transmission terminated, leaving a blank screen on _Voyager_. Ensign Kim hurried to get the live feed active. The entire bridge crew witnessed _Val Jean_ go to full impulse power as she prepared to ram the larger ship.

"Shields at maximum," Kaplan informed the command team, her trepidation contained to her rapidly delivered words.

"Weapons are charged," Kim offered in a similar tone. "Forward and aft array ready to fire on your mark, Captain."

The bridge shook as the smaller ship skimmed the external shields like a stone on the surface of a pond, before transitioning to warp speed. Lt. Commander Cavit was thrown to the floor while Janeway managed to keep hold of the banister before her. Reports from tactical, engineering and operations came in with rapid fire. The tactic hadn't damaged the larger ship and there were, thankfully, no casualties. The move had been cool and calculated, displaying Mr. Paris's unique piloting skills.

"The _Val Jean_ is entering the Badlands, Captain," Kim responded to the changing situation with lightning speed. "Coordinates have been transferred to helm."

"Lt. Sadi, lay in a course and follow that ion trail," Janeway ordered. Hearing the turbolift doors open and close, the Captain wanted to speak with her security officer in private. Something in this whole mess just didn't add up. "Warp six until we reach those plasma storms, then drop to impulse power. Mr. Cavit, you have the bridge. Mr. Tuvok, you're with me."

The moment the ready room door closed, Janeway eyed Tuvok. He hadn't taken the time to change out of civilian clothing. Approaching the replicator, the Captain ordered a Vulcan spiced tea and black coffee before indicating Tuvok join her in the more comfortable lounge area. Placing the drinks on the glass topped table, she waited for her security officer to begin his report. Somehow, Kathryn Janeway knew the debriefing would take time and pose more questions than provide answers.

"As you know," Tuvok commenced in a typically Vulcan tone, "I was recruited to infiltrate the Maquis six weeks ago. I travelled to the Deep Space Nine as ordered then took the most disreputable freighters to the demilitarised zone. It took a week to reach a non-Federation outpost and another to make the necessary contacts. One of Chakotay's crew made the initial overtures. I was recruited only after meeting with the Captain personally and passing his scrutiny. The captain seems to prefer Starfleet trained crew, which worked in my favour. When I came aboard _Val Jean,_ I was introduced to the entire crew, or so I thought. It seems their chief pilot and first officer was conducting negotiations for ships supplies."

"Mr. Paris," Janeway commented with a sigh.

"Indeed," Tuvok stated, allowing his eyebrow to rise. "I find it unfortunate that Thomas Paris was at Starfleet academy in my last year of teaching at that institution."

"You taught him," Janeway asked, rolling her eyes. Obviously no one considered Tom Paris's future employment prospects, such as joining the Maquis before sending out her security officer. His background, as well as relationship to a currently serving Admiral made Mr. Paris very useful to such an organisation. If the Cardassian's caught him, well, that didn't bear thinking about.

"I did not," Tuvok managed to sound intrigued. "However I was well known to many students. Tom Paris informed Chakotay of my Starfleet affiliations, convincing him I would not resign my commission a second time and I was escorted to the brig, where I remained until transported to _Voyager_."

"Then all this has been for nothing?" Janeway sounded aggrieved. Unable to hold in her disappointment, she stood and paced the upper deck. "What are we still doing out here. Surely our mission has been accomplished?"

"I think not, Captain," Tuvok challenged. "Mr. Paris came to the brig every day to ensure I was being care for in accordance with Federation Law. We spoke briefly about conditions within the demilitarised zone on each occasion. Data relating to Cardassian movements, tactics and capabilities was imparted. Before I was beamed back to _Voyager_ , Mr. Paris handed me an isoliner chip and request I get the information to Admiral Patterson."

The Captain took the item, scrutinising it closely. "What do you think it contains?" she asked, watching the man before her very carefully.

"I believe Mr. Paris is not what he appears to be," Tuvok announced. "Several times he requested I contact Admiral Patterson and personally inform him of the current situation, albeit in a roundabout way that could be misconstrued as a joke. Logically, all evidence indicates Thomas Paris is a Federation operative employed to gain knowledge of Cardassian movements within the demilitarised zone. He is actively aiding the Maquis, to what end, I do not know."

Nodding, Captain Janeway took in a long, deep breath. Before she could begin to process this information, which seemed to tally with the hints Mr. Paris had given her during their short conversation on the bridge, Mr. Kim indicated there was a confidential transmission from Starfleet Command. Turning the computer terminal to face into her ready room, Janeway stood beside Tuvok as the image of Admiral Patterson appeared on her secure channel.

"Captain, Lieutenant," he greeted easily. "I'll get down to business quickly. I believe Voyager has come in contact with the Maquis ship _Val Jean_?"

"Yes, Sir," the confused woman answered.

"What is your current position?" Patterson requested.

"We are approaching the Badlands in pursuit of the Maquis raider," Janeway explained, allowing her mystification to colour her expression.

"Good, I want that vessel and its entire crew apprehended," Patterson ordered.

"Sir," Janeway offered in a puzzled tone, "Lt. Tuvok has been returned and I am currently debriefing him. I believe our mission is complete."

"The crew of that vessel has several ex-Starfleet personnel on board," the Admiral stated, as if he'd said all he needed to.

Making up her mind, Janeway decided to approach the white elephant in the room. "Would his have anything to do with Tom Paris being on board that ship, Sir? He's acting as Val Jean's first officer and was the individual to answer our hail."

"Please play back the entire interview, Captain," Patterson kept a neutral expression. However, both Tuvok and Janeway glanced at each other. This interest in Paris seemed to confirm their suspicions. They continued to observe the Admirals reactions as the communications log was replayed, it was inscrutable. At the end, Patterson's deep brown eyes seemed to glow. "Has Lt. Tuvok made an official report?"

Nodding, the Captain said, "verbally."

"Lt. Tuvok, when you were returned to Voyager, a subspace tracking beacon was initiated. That particular signal indicated crucial data needed to be transmitted using the most confidential channel to Starfleet Intelligence," Patterson stated.

"Admiral," Tuvok responded, showing the isoliner chip, "I believe this is the object you require."

"Please send the data on an encrypted channel directly to my office," the Admiral ordered, "then destroy the original."

Before either officer could acknowledge the order, Patterson cut the connection.

"Curious," Tuvok stated. "With your permission, Captain, I will attend to this in my office."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Kathryn frowned. "Then I want you back in uniform and on the bridge at your station. I have a feeling this day is a long way from over."

* * *

 **AN** : Let me know what you think and if it's worth continuing this story.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN** : OK, so this work is going to be consistent with current military structures. On a ship of 140-150 crew there would be:

Captain (Janeway)

XO – Executive Officer – Commander or Lt. Commander. (Cavit/Chakotay)

Service heads – Full Lieutenant or Lt. Commander - Navigation (Sadi, KIA/Paris), Medical (Lt. Comm. McGary, KIA/EMH), Tactical (Tuvok), Operations (Ens. Kim?), Engineering (Lt Comm. Howard, KIA/Torres).

Department heads – some whom would be non-commissioned officers, such as O'Brian as the Transporter Chief. The rest would be Lieutenant's junior grade or Ensign's.

My Navy friend did suggest that Engineering would have its own structure as it would be one of the largest crew contingents on any ship. So you might get another Lt. Commander and one or two Lieutenants as Assistant Engineers, making a total of 10 to 15 commissioned officers on Voyager.

The following information is taken from Memory Alpha

1 x Captain

1 x Commander

10 x Lt. Commander

38 x Lieutenant

47 x Ensign

Leaving 43 – 53 crewmen to do all the grunt work. (Yes, you see me rolling on the floor laughing as my Navy friend said there would be less than 10% commissioned officers.)

Now that we have that sorted out, and will be using the correct number of officers, on with the show. Oh, the reason will become obvious as this story continues.

* * *

"Don't you think," Chakotay grinned, his dark eyes twinkling as the exchange between Paris and Janeway ended, "you were a little brutal?"

"Nope," Tom used one of his favourite twentieth century expressions while concentrating on getting the Maquis raider away from the much larger vessel before they brought their tractor beam or weapons on line. Concentrating on manoeuvring the lighter, more agile craft, Paris's fingers danced over the navigation board before him.

 _Val Jean_ took heavy damage from a Cardassian Fourth Order Battle Cruiser on their last raid a week previously. They'd managed to escape capture and destroy a Dominion staging base before limping into the Badlands, disguising their ion trail within the plasma storms. The engineering crew finally got the warp core up and running at peak efficiency yesterday, only to encounter the Federation vessel, _Voyager_.

Unwilling to give anything about their ship away, the three officers occupied the minuscule bridge of _Val Jean,_ analysing the recent transmission. Tom sat before the navigation controls, giving the pilot easy access to the forward view screen and the recent image of _Voyager's_ bridge. Chakotay, as the Captain, sat to his left at the combined tactical and operations console, while Torres directed engineering from her position to Tom's right. The three vastly different individuals worked together as a well oiled team. They understood Paris's plan before he'd engaged impulse power.

 _Just as well Torres is one of the best engineers in the quadrant_ , Tom thought to himself, _I'm going to need speed to get us out of this one because Voyager is the first of the new Intrepid class ships. Even if these thirty nine year old rebuilt engines fail, B'Elanna's brand of attention can repair them. If I've damage them again with this manoeuvre, she'll wipe the floor with my lifeless carcass, even if I am her commanding officer._

"Just how do you know Captain Kathryn Janeway, Helmboy?" B'Elanna ridiculed the man sitting beside her. She'd been watching the cocky pilot from the corner of her eye, knowing Tom Paris well enough to read the thoughts flashing across his face. Waiting for _Val Jean_ to skim a glancing blow of _Voyager's_ topside shields, the engineer did her best to dampen the jarring on their old ship and limit crew casualties. "One of your conquests while at the academy, or maybe on the Exeter?"

Snorting, Tom allowed a wide grin in answer, now he'd transitioned into warp and given them some breathing room. "What do you take me for?" he fired back at the engineer. The close confines allowed Tom to deliberately knock his knee into hers playfully. "Janeway has to be fifteen years older than me."

"Anything in a skirt, Paris," Chakotay tormented, chuckling as the man's sour look narrowed on him. On the other side, B'Elanna smirked and elbowed their pilot in the ribs. Tom Paris was well known for his flirtatious ways and charismatic personality. He seemed to be able to talk his way out of anything.

"Dear Old Dad is how I know of Kathryn Janeway," Tom rolled his eyes while using a sardonic tone. Turning his focus back to the screen, he'd soon need all his attention on the upcoming obstacles making up the aptly named Badlands. However, Paris would take the good natured teasing while he could get it. Things were about to get tough for everyone on board, if he read the situation correctly. "Captain Paris only accepted the brightest and the best from the Academy. He chose Ensign Janeway to join him on the Al-Batani during the Orias Expedition. We all know how that ended. Anyway, she finished up with a promotion to Lieutenant and as Chief Science officer after eighteen months."

"Someone The Admiral approved of," Chakotay teased. They all knew of Tom's estrangement from his family. It had occurred three years ago after he'd been framed for a shuttle accident killing several officers on Caldik Prime. That event drew the three together, and they'd been together ever since.

"You could say that," Tom responded with a good natured grin. His humour rapidly disappeared when he considered all he'd lost. "Pity his son never measured up to his lofty standards."

"Speaking of pity," Torres almost growled from her station, willing the pilot into a happier headspace, "are you going to make a party out of this, or get us somewhere safe. I'm sure my engines are crying out for attention."

"What do you think I'm doing," Paris spared the half Klingon a condescending glare. "I didn't bounce off Voyager's shields for nothing. I was trying to save your precious warp core."

"Really," B'Elanna teased. "Looked more like you deliberately dropped us out of warp to off load that Vulcan petaQ. Not that anyone on board cares that he's gone."

"And I thought I was the Captain of this tub," Chakotay rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting into a half smile. He'd become use to the banter among the command crew, especially between his first and second officers. There'd always been a frisson of sexual tension surrounding them which, to the best of the crew's knowledge, remained unresolved. Chakotay had given up trying to understand Paris or his relationship with Torres. He found it easier to just play along with the rogue and his half Klingon sidekick.

"I never did like you twisted sense of humour, Chakotay," B'Elanna spared her captain a hostile glare. Turning on the pilot, she demanded, "You avoided my question, Helmboy. Do I need to be terrified for my engines after that little stunt? Remember, we worked round the clock for the last week so you could achieve that infantile manoeuvre."

"Be afraid, Torres," Tom quipped mockingly, "be very afraid." Sighing at her continued glare, Paris spoke more professionally than the Engineer or Captain expected. "I'm taking this bucket of bolts through the plasma fields to a small M class planetoid on the other side. We can land there and make any necessary repairs. However, I'm going to need all the power in the impulse engines and aft thrusters you can spare to navigate the storms and vortexes. Voyager will expect us to put down in the Terikoff Belt beyond the Moriya system. I don't want to live up to their expectations."

"Damage my engines," the Engineer threatened.

"Heard it all before, Torres," Tom smirked, returning to his cocky best.

"That," Chakotay rose from his seat rolling his eyes, "is my cue to exit. Play nicely children, and try to remember who's the Captain. I'll be in my ready room if anyone needs me."

"Yes, Sir," Tom snorted with a playful salute. Ready room was pushing the boundaries of reality. Chakotay's cabin, the largest on the ship served as his office as well as quarters. It wasn't much bigger than the bridge.

"Hey, Captain," Paris threw over his shoulder as they entered the threshold of the Badlands, "why don't you take Torres with you. I could use a quiet mental atmosphere to concentrate while I steer this old tub through the storms. Right now, I can here her fury building and I haven't even placed her engines in danger."

"Yet," B'Elanna turned her chair to give the helmsman an evil glare and a swift kick to his calf.

"See what I mean," Pairs teased, rubbing his calf playfully. It gave Tom time to signal his intentions to the Engineer. Growling deep in her throat, B'Elanna indicated she understood. "I want her charged with insubordination and assault."

"Like it's the first time I've ignored you," B'Elanna huffed, doing her best to display her aggressive Klingon tendencies.

"Come on, Torres," Chakotay shook his head and smirked, it had been like this between them since the day they'd met, "lets leave our resident genius alone. I give you permission to break every bone, except the ones in his hands, if he so much as causes a shudder in the impulse drive."

"Why leave out his hands?" B'Elanna asked with a grin which earned her a look and sarcastic lip curl from Paris. They both understood Chakotay's implied order. The helmsman needed his fingers in working order to get them out of this situation and any others that might crop up.

Tom waited several minutes after the Captain and Engineer retreated to their duties, until they were well into the plasma storms and B'Elanna signalled she was ready. Reaching into his fatigue pocket, he took out a minuscule device. Attaching it to the com's console, he opened a channel to Starfleet Command and Admiral Patterson's office. The Admiral took a few moments to answer.

"Sir," Tom nodded, his attention on the difficult course he needed to pilot.

"Commander Paris," Patterson responded. "Report."

"We have encountered _Voyager_. Her tactical officer has been returned with our findings since my last report," Tom stated easily.

Nodding, the Admiral responded, "I've the isoliner chips data streamed from _Voyager_ and the original destroyed."

"I gave Lt. Tuvok other tactical information," he stated succinctly. "He will need to be carefully debriefed. Further orders?"

"You are to let _Voyager_ capture you, Commander. I want you and Lt. Torres back at intelligence. We have another situation that needs immediate attention. Patterson out," the Admiral cut the transmission.

Even out here in the DMZ, under the cover of the Badlands, there was a chance either the Maquis, the Cardassian's or a Federation Starship might capture and decode the message. If they did, his cover, and B'Elanna's would be blown.

 _Not that it isn't already,_ Tom sighed.

 _ **Three years earlier.**_

"I'm telling you, Dad," Tom almost whined. He hated it when his voice took on that tone. "I didn't mistake the aft thruster control for anything else. I made that mistake when I was eight years old and crashed your class S shuttle. I learnt my lesson way back then. You know, if I make a error, I'm the first to report it and I never put myself in the same situation again."

Nodding sagely, Admiral Paris looked at the PADD in his hand before throwing it on his desk in a fit of rage. Eye's narrowing on the young man standing opposite his desk, Owen had been following his son's case and the evidence looked damming. At first the Admiral believed everything he'd read, but then Tom had not approached his father for help since the day he'd entered the academy. Admiral Owen Paris was wavering in his opinion. He'd never known his son to fight so hard and continue to decry his innocence.

"I'm not going to lie to you, son, your Court Marshal is all but a forgone conclusion at this point in time with the evidence against you. A team of thirty engineers have all agreed that the shuttle's service history was impeccable. There's no way those thrusters engaged from anywhere but helm control," Owen stated neutrally, once again observing Tom's reaction. "Then there's the fact you weren't on duty at the time."

"I explained that," the young man threw himself into the nearest chair in his father's office. "I served with Jasson, Milik and Watson on Exeter for two years. We all knew each other well and considered ourselves friends. We had permission from the Captain to play in the Parrises Square torment on Caldik Prime representing Starfleet and the ship. We took a shuttle instead of beaming down so we'd have somewhere to stay."

"The question tomorrow will be how you were the only one to survive?" Owen frowned. "The inference will be made that you had time to brace for impact while the three passengers weren't so lucky."

"I didn't have time to warn them, when the aft thruster failed and the shield integrity buckled," Tom cried, standing to pace. Sighing, he finally deflated. "I know it doesn't look good, Dad. I didn't do this. I have proof but if I submit it to the Board of Enquiry, a First Class Cadet will probably lose any chance of graduating."

"What the hell are you talking about, Tom?" Owen demanded, eyeing his son suspiciously.

Handing his father the PADD, he gave the older man time to read the report. Eyes glued to the data scrolling down the surface, the Admiral's colour drained from his face. He understood his son's reason for keeping this private until there was no other recourse. The Cadet would be expelled for sharing her findings. She'd been ordered to destroy her report, and not to contact Lt. Thomas Paris with the results. She'd ignored both directions.

"When?" Owen demanded.

"About a week after the official investigation commenced," Tom responded mournfully. "She passed the PADD to me when I was allowed to view the wreckage. I though if a cadet could find enough evidence to clear my name, then a team of Starfleet Engineers would do the same."

Grunting, Admiral Paris called up the Cadets academic record. Cadet First Class B'Elanna Torres, equal parts disciplinary nightmare and academically brilliant, had been included on the thirty person investigation team as part of her final Engineering project specialising in propulsion's systems. Torres unique methods uncovered the micro fractures in the aft thruster assembly that would have gone unnoticed until the shuttle was caught in a vortex. She'd taken her complete findings to her academic advisor. Receiving praise for her unique insight, and passing with honours, the team ignored her results, blaming the pilot for the crash. Finally she approached Vice Admiral Patterson with her data and had been ordered to keep her mouth firmly closed.

Reaching for his com, Admiral Paris contacted his long time associate and friend. "I need to see you, Theo. ASAP."

"My office at R and D, five minutes," Patterson responded in a terse tone. With Paris's son currently under arrest for lying about a shuttle crash, it didn't take Theo long to understand the reason for the call. The fact his department had headed up the investigation didn't help. Sighing, the man knew what was coming and had his aid make several calls.

Looking at each other, the Paris men arranged a site to site transport. Patterson's office was across the city, when he wasn't at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards. Approaching, a young Lieutenant greeted the party and ushered them into a private briefing room. It took several minutes for Patterson to join them.

"What's this about, Owen," Theo asked, eyeing Lt. Paris sitting beside his father, fidgeting.

"I'd like you to read this report," Owen handed over the PADD.

Nodding, Theo took the device, glanced at the text then placed it beside him on the conference table. "I know about Cadet Torres report. Owen, as a friend, I suggest you drop this. Cadet Torres will lose her career, should this come to light and she has amazing potential."

"My son is about to lose his career," Owen Paris shouted.

"Lt. Thomas Paris is about to be offered the posting of a lifetime. Taking this to your lawyer," Vice Admiral Patterson glared at the younger man, "will ensure you're locked away for years. Vicki," Theo opened a com line to his aid, "please sent in Cadet Torres and Admiral Nechayev."

Admiral Owen Paris's eyes became like saucers. His friend smirked and offered, "I suggest you say your goodbyes and leave now, Owen. You don't want to know."

"Tom," Owen held out a hand. He understood only to well. "I wish you all the best, son. I think it might be a few years before we meet a gain. In the meantime, I'm going to have to play along with your disgrace."

"Dad," Tom's face dropped as his father turned and walked out of the conference room.

"Computer," Patterson called, as two women entered, "erect a level six omega field around this room."

"Sit, Lt. Paris, Cadet Torres," Fleet Admiral Nechayev ordered. "We have a lot to get through and precious little time in which to do it."

"Tom," B'Elanna's tone broke the pilot's thoughts free from the past. "I'm on my way up to the bridge. We've just passed through some kind of coherent tetryon beam."

"Chakotay," Tom felt the currents and eddies within the plasma fields increase. "Get up here."

It took all of Paris's concentration to keep the ship on an even keel. He needed to keep his focus on piloting, the atmospheric events were becoming more severe and unpredictable. Added to that, the proximity alarm started.

"Great," Tom sighed, noting _Voyager_ had not only entered the Badlands in pursuit, but was currently gaining on them.

"I see it," B'Elanna slipped into the seat beside the overwhelmed pilot. " _Voyagers_ two hundred thousand kilometre's off our stern. There's an event the same distance off the bow but I can't get a reading on it."

"Source?" Chakotay demanded as he took his position. The atmosphere in the cockpit changed as suddenly as the situation.

"Unknown," Torres fired back, her fingers dancing just as quickly as Tom's over the console before her.

"There appears to be a massive displacement wave moving toward us," Paris shouted moments before impact. The screen turned white, _Val Jean's_ stabilisers failed and the small raider was tossed on the leading edge of the shock wave like flotsam in a hurricane.

"Another storm?" Chakotay was the first to recover. He'd been thrown from his seat and was slowly making his way back to his position.

"I," B'Elanna's tone and expression oozed fear, which drew the attention of her shipmates. The Klingon never felt fright. "I think we're a long way from home."

Before Chakotaty or Paris could react, they were swept up in the whine of a transporter beam.

* * *

Let me know wat you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN** : I've taken one line from the novelisation of the episode: Caretaker and used it. Even with his very small part in the pilot, Cavit struck me as an arrogant, self serving SOB. I'm going to admit this is somewhat of a longer, filler chapter, designed to get us from the AQ to the DQ and encompassing the subtle changes in Caretake's plot line given Paris and Torres changed circumstance.

* * *

"Report, Mr. Cavit," Janeway ordered the moment she exited her ready room. Sitting in the Captain's haven, Kathryn attempted to understand her new orders. She continued to wonder why Starfleet had any interest in a young man who'd been dishonourably discharged years ago.

 _Unless,_ the Captain carefully considered her Security Officer's veiled hints and Patterson's obvious interest, _Tuvok's assumptions are correct and Mr. Paris is gathering intelligence for the Federation. What better deep cover story than an innocent man accused of a crime he didn't commit, running to the Maquis because he's disillusioned with Starfleet. It would place him in the DMZ, aware of the Cardassian's infractions in respect to the peace treaty and give him insight into the Maquis movement. I have to work on the assumption Mr. Paris is not what he seems and that's the reason Admiral Patterson want's him back on Earth. When I get the chance, Tuvok and I will have to sit down and discuss what occurred on_ Val Jean _in great detail. Between the two of us, I'm sure we can work out what the hell's going on._

" _Val Jean_ has entered the Badlands," Cavit stated from his chair, finally standing as Janeway stepped down to the middle level of the command centre. "Helm has managed to outpace the Maquis vessel and we've gained twenty thousand kilometres so far. I estimate we will be in tractor range in seven minutes."

"Ensign Kim," Janeway allowed her eyebrow to rise, realising for the first time the level of inexperience within her crew. Making a mental note, Janeway would have to speak to her new Lt. Commander regarding his attitude once they'd captured _Val Jean._ As a Starfleet officer, Mr Cavit needed to act more professionally and set a precedence for the younger crew. He'd impressed her with his arrogant, small mindedness these last six weeks. "How will the tractor beam stand up to the interference caused by the plasma storms."

"The tractor beam attenuation is severely limited by the increasing concentration of ions emitted from the plasma field. I suggest other alternatives be considered as a first option for capturing the vessel, Captain," Harry offered, fielding a hostile glare from the first officer.

"In other words, we'd have to be on top of them before we could grab hold of their ship," Janeway directed a smile at the very young officer.

"Yes, Captain," Harry answered, appropriately chastised.

"Ensign Kaplan," Janeway now turned her attention to the junior member of staff at Tuvok's tactical station. "What are our options with regard to the transporters."

"Range is decreased for the same reasons as the tractor beam," she stated easily, flashing Harry a smile. "We will have to be within five hundred kilometre's to ensure effective transport. The phase variance within the buffering patterns will lose integrity if we attempt to beam someone on board at a greater distance. In short, I can't guarantee we'll be able to effect a live transport."

Cavit's expression turned icy. Obviously he thought taking such chances was worth the risk when dealing with the Maquis. "We could disable their ship by taking out the impulse engines, leaving them dead in space."

" _Val Jean_ would be destroyed," Kim offered with a frown and slight tone of disapproval, "before we'd be in range to collect survivors. Their pilot is plotting a course through the most densely packed areas of plasma. The vortices are becoming unstable and unpredictable. Plasma flares would disrupt the shield harmonics within thirty seconds of power loss, leading to a catastrophic hull breach."

"I'll need to slow to half impulse, Captain," Lt. Sadi reported, "within the next few minutes. The atmospheric conditions are becoming impossible to navigate at this speed. _Val Jean_ is smaller and more manoeuvrable under the current conditions," lowering her tone, Sadi added to herself, "and they have a better pilot."

Stepping down to the Con, Janeway placed a hand on her Chief Navigational Officer's shoulder. "I agree," she whispered, remembering how proud Owen Paris had been of his son's abilities. They hadn't been exaggerated. Thomas Paris had been competing in shuttle races since the age of eight.

"Photon torpedos and phasers should be used with extreme care while near plasma eruptions," Tuvok announced from the rear of the bridge. In uniform after delivering the intelligence collected on _Val Jean_ to Admiral Patterson, the Security Officer understood their new orders and considered the best way to capture both the Maquis vessel and her crew compliment without injuries. Nodding to Ensign Kaplan, he stood at her side, indicating she should continue her duties.

"Captain, I'm reading a coherent tetryon beam scanning us," Ensign Kim broke into the silence that had momentarily encompassed the bridge.

"Origin, Mister Kim," Janeway demanded, returning to her command chair. Experience told her things were about to get rough.

"The source is directly ahead, three hundred thousand kilometres," Harry answered, watching the sensor data as it crossed his console. "There's also a displacement wave moving toward us. It will reach _Val Jean_ in less than sixty seconds and _Voyager_ half a minute after that."

Voyager's crew moved to red alert status. Janeway ordered a full reverse and Lt. Sadi complied. It took precious seconds to redirect the inertia of the large vessel. Choosing a new heading, the pilot guided them into a sweeping one hundred and eighty degree turn. It took up precious seconds but didn't have a chance of changing the result.

"Initiate graviton field," Cavit ordered. Together with Kim and Tuvok they'd realigned the deflector shield in the attempt to reduce the influence of the displacement wave rapidly approaching.

"No effect," Harry watched their final hope fade. "The wave will intercept us in twelve seconds."

Unable to go to warp until they cleared the Badlands, Janeway addressed the entire crew. _Voyager's_ crew braced for impact. Larger and heavier than the Maquis counterpart, the Federation ship faired better initially, in the fact they were able to surf the wave. When it crashed, Cavit was sent flying across the bridge the same moment the world turned white and _Voyager_ was tossed in the turbulent eddies. It took time for the bridge crew to regain their senses. Shocked, Captain Janeway assessed the mess of broken conduits and shorting cables that was her domain when they'd come through the other side.

"Report!" the Captain demanded, checking her first officer for a pulse. Finding none, she stood and drew in a deep breath. The sensors stated _Val Jean_ rested four hundred kilometres of their starboard bow, her crew compliment gone. Comm's lines were down, deck fourteen had a hull breach, and Sickbay wasn't responding. The Chief Engineer had been crushed and the warp core was in immediate danger of breaching. Worst of all she had a just out of the academy operations officer stating something was out there and no image to back up his information.

"Can you get the main screen operational?" Janeway demanded, wanting to see what they were facing.

Finally colour infused the foreword surface. A space station, the like of which had never been seen in the Federation appeared. Energy pulses fired from the array. They disappeared into the distance towards a G type star system several light years away.

"Captain," Mr Kim swallowed, standing straighter and stating, "if these sensors are working, we're over seventy thousand light years from where we were. We're on the other side of the galaxy."

Before anyone could comment, they were swept away with the whine of a transporter beam. Three days later Voyager's crew were deposited back on their ship. Picking herself off the floor of the bridge once again, Captain Janeway noticed the young operations officer was absent from his station.

"Computer, locate Mr. Kim," she requested, indicating Tuvok should commence repairs and organise for the bodies of their fallen crew to be taken to the mortuary. Everything remained the same as the moment they'd left, as if the passage of time hadn't occurred.

"Ensign Kim is not on board," the computerised voice stated.

"Computer, how many crewmen are unaccounted for?" Janeway demanded.

"One."

"I guess I should be happy with that result," the Captain muttered under her breath. Listening to the reports from each station, it soon became clear _Voyager_ was in bad shape. Repairs and uncovering the whereabouts of Mr. Kim would have to be her priority. Still, the _Val Jean_ hung in space beside them, probably as bruised and battered as her own vessel.

"Open a channel to the Maquis ship," Janeway turned to face the operations station.

Ensign Kaplan had taken the initiative and manned Kim's console. Nodding, the young woman, reported, "there are now twenty seven life signed on _Val Jean_. Our hail has been accepted."

"On screen." Even though her bridge looked like a bomb had exploded, Captain Kathryn Janeway stood in her usual position when contacting another ship. This time she signalled for Kaplan to keep the field of vision tight. This time she didn't want to give away any information in relation to the damage taken by her ship. Tuvok's scans revealed the _Val Jean's_ condition was little better than there own. It would be hours until either ship had impulse power, if not days before the warp drives were on line. They were stuck in this mess together and it made sense to work with each other to form a common solution.

"Captain Janeway," Tom Paris's confident face filled the foreword view screen, once again giving nothing away, "what can we do for you?"

"I'll make this short, Mr. Paris. One of our crewman is missing," Janeway stated. Crossing her arms, the Captain trained her cool grey eyes on the ex-starfleet officer. "Was Mr. Kim transported back to your ship?"

"Afraid not," Tom's expression clearly displayed mixed emotions. Looking to his left, the angle of view changed and the feed transferred to another bridge camera. Ex Starfleet Commander Chakotay became the pictures focus with Paris and an empty station in the background.

"A member of our crew is also missing," the Maquis Captain offered calmly. "I assume you haven't locked her in the brig."

"No," Janeway almost smiled. "It seems you and I have the same problem, Mr. Chakotay. It makes sense to try and solve it together."

"I'll beam over," Chakotay offered, "with two of my crew to discuss our next move."

Cutting the connection, Tom turned to look at the Captain. His questioning gaze asked if Chakotay wanted the first officer to stay on board. Nodding, Paris comm'ed Ayala and Hogan. The men met Chakotay in the transporter room to beam over to _Voyager_ , leaving Tom Paris in command of _Val Jean_ and the massive repairs that needed immediate attention without their engineer.

"Wherever you are, B'Elanna," Tom whispered, leaning against his console on the lonely bridge, "I hope you're safe and well. I got you into this mess and made a promise to keep you safe the day we were forced to leave Starfleet HQ. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch. I'm still your commanding officer and I'll get you home in one piece. Hell, I didn't even get time to tell you we've been recalled to Earth."

While Paris went about his duties ensuring the Maquis raider was space worthy, Kathryn Janeway marched down to the transporter room in the bowels of _Voyager_. Three men appeared on the pad, dressed in various amounts of leather and cloth that made up their non-standard uniforms. They were all armed with phasers, however the weapons weren't drawn.

"Mr. Chakotay," Janeway stepped forward and offered her hand in an old fashioned greeting.

Taking the offered olive branch, _Val Jean's_ Captain made his response firm and determined. "Captain."

"I've read your Starfleet personnel file and must say, it's quite impressive," Janeway offered easily, her expression at odds with her body language. When Chakotay simply watched her, Kathryn understood more about this man than her PADD managed to impart. They were more alike than either would ever care to admit. "Tuvok is breaking out the compression phasers and we're going to return to the Array. I want our people back."

"Our people, Captain," Chakotay asked, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

"We're seventy thousand light years from the Alpha quardrent, stranded in unknown space and the last time I looked," Janeway smiled easily, "the Cardassian's weren't an issue for either of us. I believe it would be better to combine our resources and attempt to find a way home before we resume hostilities."

Nodding, their truce commenced. Together they beamed over to the array, found the Caretaker and uncovered that Kim and Torres had been moved to the system surrounding the G type star. Impulse engines now functional on both ships, the vessels flew side by side towards the Ocampa home world.

Encountering a debris field and a humanoid life sign, Captain Janeway stopped to investigate. Mr. Neelix agreed to help locate and extract the missing crew members for a price, proving his acquisitive nature. What he achieved on the surface of the Ocampan Home World amounted to mutiny and angered both Alpha quadrant Captains. However it gave Janeway her first opportunity to observe Mr. Paris in action.

"I'm coming with you, Chakotay," Tom's tone left little room for argument when he uncovered the mission to rescue Torres and a member of _Voyager's_ crew as they orbited the fifth planet of the Ocampan system.

"I need you here," Chakotay stated, his brown gaze locking with Paris's. "Ayala can go down to the planet with me. He's more than capable"

"Don't make me solve this the Maquis way," Tom growled, changing his stance to a fighting pose.

"Why," Chakotay gazed on the younger man with both compassion and disappointment, "is this so important to you."

"I made a promise to B'Elanna a long time ago," he whispered, almost too softly for Chakotay to hear.

Before Tom could explain, the Captain shook his head and said, "in the almost three years the two of you have been part of my crew, I've never once heard you call Torres by her given name."

"Chakotay," Paris's stare became cold and hard, a side of the first officer he rarely exhibited, "B'Elanna's in this situation because of me. She's the one who realised I'd been set up and the shuttle accident wasn't my fault. It was her final year report that got us both ejected from Starfleet when I took it to Admiral Patterson. I swore I'd never let anything happen to her again."

"This is not your fault, Paris," Chakotay soothed, understanding the sentiment.

"You're right," Tom agreed sadly, his blue eyes filled with despondency, "its not. But that doesn't mean I can't try and protect her with everything I have, even when she won't let me. B'Elanna would have been the Chief Engineer on board _Voyager_ or some other starship if she hadn't tried to help me."

"I didn't realise Torres meant that much to you," Chakotay attempted to understand the relationship between them.

"When we left Earth," Tom confessed easily, "B'Elanna was the only person I truly trusted. We deliberately made our way to DS9 to look for you and join your fight. We'd heard the rumours. Hell, you know Starfleet as well as I do. A Lt. Commander leaving the way you did, after the death of nearly everyone on your colony world, it didn't take long to connect the dots. Joining the Maquis gave us a new beginning."

"I know all that," Chakotay hissed, understanding there was more to this story, more he'd never bothered to expose. "What's driving this, Tom? Why now? Just how deep is the relationship between you and B'Elanna?"

"I can't tell you," Tom stated mournfully, his eyes glued to his fingers which were attempting to strangle each other, "because I don't really know. We've never discussed it."

"You're in love with her," Chakotay stated, astounded he hadn't realised the fact before.

"Let's just go get her," Tom stated sarcastically with a heavy sigh. "And don't you dare spread a word of this to B'Elanna. Torres will kill me if she finds out."

Chuckling, they broke several phasers out of the armoury and placed Mike Ayala temporarily in charge. Beaming over to Voyager, Captain Janeway and Lt. Tuvok were waiting with the odd little Telaxian. Together the transported down to the planet surface. It was hot and dusty. A once majestic city lay in ruins and deserted before them.

"Why would anyone want to live in a place like this?" Tom asked to no one in particular as they approached an outpost. Sitting to one side were two raider class ships of an unknown design. Nothing missed the undercover operatives scrutiny as he fingered the weapon at his waist.

It didn't take long for Neelix to inform the away team of the Kazon-Ogla sect and the politics in this region of the Delta quadrant. Nor did the Kazon wait to be introduced to the intruders. It seemed their new Telaxian friend's information was imparted to further is own interests. Tom watched as Maj Jabin confiscated the away team's equipment and held them captive on his person. He listened with wrapt attention to the argument between Neelix and Jabin, attempting to understand the circumstances better.

Captain Janeway divided her attention between the posturing and Mr. Paris's constantly moving blue eyes. He took in every word and action, the strained expression on his face indicating how fast his mind worked to sort out the situation. Finally, when the Ocampan woman appeared and Jabin was distracted, Tom's lightening reflexes allowed him to spring to his feet. The action confirming, in Janeway's mind at least, that Mr. Paris had received more than standard Starfleet defensive training.

Closest to the Maj, Tom used the opportunity to successfully reverse the situation. Reaching for one of the Federation phases attached to the Kazon's belt, he held it against the man's throat, demanding the rest of the sect lay down their weapons. Janeway, Tuvok and Chakotay grabbed for their phasers. Before long the water created a distraction as it poured onto the parched dessert floor, sinking beneath the dry sand. After _Voyager's_ transporter Chief beamed the away team aboard, the freight transporter returned the holding containers to their resources buffer for later use.

Tom Paris stood beside Chakotay watching the Ocampan woman speak with Captain Janeway in Sickbay once the . It seemed Neelix had played them so he could rescue his lover. Yet Kes was willing to help them navigate the city two miles below the surface. If all Ocampa were as gentle as the woman before him, Paris didn't need to fear for B'Elanna's welfare. He rather wondered how they'd be coping with her Klingon outbursts of temper.

It didn't take long to find out. Harry Kim, with Torres superior strength had uncovered their own escape route from the underground city. Initially Captain Janeway wanted the away team to separate. When Tom realised the power emissions had stopped and the Caretaker realigned the station, he feared the worst.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ma'am," his Starfleet training came back in an instant. "You're suggesting the three most senior officers from two ships remain together, that's against regulations."

Allowing her eyebrow to rise, Janeway didn't respond verbally.

"Technically, Ma'am," Tom tried again with a cheeky grin, "that would make me acting Captain of our small fleet, should anything occur to the three of you."

"How do you come to that conclusion, Mr. Paris," Janeway took the bait.

"I am _Val Jean's_ First Officer," he smirked, indicating Kes should continue to lead them towards the tunnels. Tom Paris had succeeded in distracting the command team long enough to move them in the direction he wanted. "I bet I outrank your most experienced Lieutenant."

"And how would you know that?" Janeway demanded, stoping in the middle of the concourse with hands on her hips.

Without thinking, Paris took hold of the Captain's arm and continued moving forward. The roof above them shook as the first of the Caretaker's blasts hit the surface. It wouldn't be long before the chance of escape became impossible.

"I accessed your data base on _Voyager_ before we beamed down," Tom offered with a negligent shrug of his shoulders. "First, Medical and Engineering officers KIA. Lt. Tuvok's your most experienced officer."

"Your going to the brig, Mr. Paris," Janeway spat, "the minute we reach _Voyager_."

"Yes, Ma'am," Paris offered with a cheeky grin. "Just as long as we get Torres and Kim back, you can try."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

 **AN** : This is the last chapters of this work. I know there's more juice in the orange, I'm just not sure I want to squeeze it.

* * *

"Lock on to Mr. Kim's signal," Captain Janeway ordered the transporter operator the moment they climbed to the planets surface, "beam him directly to sick bay along with Ms. Torres. You have your orders for the remainder of the away team."

Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres had been located attempting to climb one of the Ocampan's ancient tunnels. They'd been hampered by fatigue and illness. Huge pustules marked their forearms, necks and face, forcing the pair to accept help in escaping the underground city. They looked painful. Paris could tell they were, by the expression hidden deep in Torres dark orbs. The part Klingon had a very high threshold when injured. Before Paris could say anything to her, she was gone, shimmering out of existence.

Sending an angry look at Captain Janeway, Tom didn't miss her next orders. However it was too late to do anything but allow himself to be captured in the transporter beam. Materialising, Paris found himself in Voyager's brig, wondering how Chakotay would take this betrayal of his trust by Janeway.

"Seems I've annoyed the Captain," Tom Paris smirked, standing behind the force field, watching the crewman at his station.

His earlier foray into _Voyager's_ systems let him know just how many casualties the displacement wave created. The senior staff had been all but obliterated. Tuvok managed to rearrange the crew to cover the essential positions and patch the ship. However, _Voyager_ would need somewhere safe to hide for a week to effect repairs. _Val Jean_ hadn't fared much better.

With that in mind, Tom wasn't ready to reveal his secret just yet, even though a few words would get him released and an audience with Janeway. It was bad enough Chakotay suspected Paris had been planted on his ship. He'd been careful to impart enough truth to satisfy the Maquis Captain's curiosity and get Chakotay to aid him in sending reports to Starfleet in regards to Cardassian's and their Treaty violations. It was part of the reason Chakotay acted to incarcerate Tuvok on Tom's recommendation. Three years was a lot of trust on the Maquis Captain's part and neither Paris nor Torres could be completely insensitive to their cause after what they'd seen. So Tom made a bargain, Chakotay didn't ask questions he didn't really want answers too and Paris would do his best to get Starfleet to support the Maquis effort. It had taken some negotiating but eventually Patterson managed to get the Federation to agree.

Sighing, Paris turned to the hard, uncomfortable bench and lay down, staring at the nondescript grey ceiling. It reminded him of the only other time he'd been in a Starfleet brig. After he'd been released from sickbay three years ago, security officers took him into custody. Only later did he learn it was for causing the shuttle crash on Caldik Prime. By that time, Lt. Paris had been transported to Earth and a security anklet placed on his right leg. Released to his father's home, Tom knew this was all a bad dream, that he'd be cleared of wrong doing once the inquiry was complete. Only it never happen that way and led to the situation he now found himself in. The memories could be held back any longer.

"Lt. Paris," Fleet Admiral Nechayev announced, after his father walked out of his life and the level six force field had been erected around their debriefing. "I am well aware you were not responsible for the crash on Caldik Prime. Starfleet wished to use the incident as a means to an end." Moving her piecing gaze to Cadet Torres, she continued, "your report was insightful, Cadet, however it was not necessary to share it with Lt. Paris. In fact your went against orders and now we have the situation where changes to our plans have to be made. _**You**_ , Ensign Torres, are directly to blame and find yourself in the unfortunate position of having your career dictated by _**me**_. Where as you would have passed graduation with the rest of your class, you will now find yourself on permanent assignment with special operations division. Do I make myself understood."

"Yes, Admiral," B'Elanna didn't cower but levelled a thoughtful expression at Nechayev.

"Of course," she continued in a harsh tone, "your part in this will be uncovered, your report discredited and your new commission revoked. In short, you will leave Starfleet in disgrace." Turning her attention back to Tom, Nechayev's expression softened slightly, and only for a moment. "Lt. Paris the situation on the Federation-Cardassian boarder is such that we had every intention of using the shuttle accident to recruit you into special operations after your discharge. Your personality trates are an exact match for the type of operative we need for this mission."

"I understand," Tom replied, feeling as if this was the response the Admiral sought when it wasn't remotely close to the truth.

Smiling, Nechayev finally sat and laced her fingers. Eyes bouncing between the young man and woman who wouldn't look at each other, she sat back satisfied. "I'm not sure either of you do," she stated. "Your missions, after six weeks training, will be to infiltrate the Maquis, more specifically, a cell operated by an ex-Starfleet officer named Chakotay. While you are authorised to use your skills to achieve your positions within this terrorist group insofar as it aids your mission, a secondary motivation will be reporting on the Maquis tactics and personnel. However, the aim of your mission is uncovering any information in relation to the Cardassians movements in the DMZ. The Federation knows they are not keeping to the terms of the treaty and believes they are currently negotiating with the Dominion to stabilise the Gamma quadrant wormhole. Starfleet wants to be ready should we need to close the Dominion's access to the Alpha quadrant."

"Permission to speak freely, Admiral," Tom requested, more than a little confused. He was given the opportunity with a nod of her head. "Why me? You've made you point with respect to Ensign Torres, although I don't understand why you chose to involve her in this. The report could have been overlooked or discredited officially."

"A report that saved your butt," B'Elanna spat from the seat beside Tom.

"A report," he retaliated, "that's got you into all this."

"It's very simple," Nechayev smirked, watching the interaction between the two. Both young, the choice to bring Torres in ensured Paris's cooperation. Guilt was a powerful tool. "Intelligence understands Chakotay is short of a good pilot and engineer and you two fit the bill. Sending in two operatives has more chance of working, especially with your cover story being the truth."

"I played into your hands," B'Elanna seethed, understanding how these people were manipulating them and not liking it.

Turning her cold glare on the young half Klingon, Fleet Admiral Nechayev agreed with a single nod. With that, she stood and handed the conference over to Admiral Patterson who explained the Dominion and Cardassian political situation in great detail. There was never a choice, Tom Paris and B'Elanna had been carefully selected for this mission. Later that evening they met with their trainer who instilled that fact into them, and that failure was not an option.

The ship shuddered, bringing Tom Paris back to reality. He felt the loss of power in the engines and knew they'd soon be dead in the water without an experienced pilot at the helm. Sadi, the Chief Navigator had been killed in the initial displacement wave leaving the helm in the hands of an inexperienced Ensign. Deciding now was as good a time as any, Paris approached the force field holding him in the small prison. Swearing under his breath, Tom Paris knew this decision would cause consequences for him but it couldn't be avoided if he wanted to make it back to the Alpha quadrant.

"Computer, Paris, Omega six protocol," he offered toward the ceiling.

"Voice print accepted," came the answer as the force field shimmered out of existence. "Please confirm with fingerprint, retinal scan and DNA."

Understanding something occurred, the security officer drew his phaser. "Stand down crewman," Tom offered gently, his hands in the air. "I'm going to confirm my identity, change into uniform and then you can escort me to the bridge."

Wearily the man backed off, but watched with his weapon drawn. The prisoner moved toward the console, placing a hand on the surface. Next he leant over the station allowing the computer to scan his right eye.

"Proceed to the replicator, Mr. Paris," the computer approved the prisoners identification, much to the astonishment of the security officer.

"Please don't call this in just yet," Tom requested.

"Yes, Sir," confused, he watched the officer strip to non-regulation boxer shorts before donning a Starfleet grey undershirt. Next came the black uniform. Command red piping across the chest and at cuff indicated special operations devision. Not many wore this uniform and never with rank insignia or com badge, which was cleverly hidden in the right sleeve. Mostly special operations division personnel preferred regular dress so they were indistinguishable from the rest of the ships compliment.

Together they marched quick time to the bridge only to discover both Captain Janeway and Lt. Tuvok had beamed across to the array. Shaking his head, Tom wondered why the two senior officers continued to take such risks with the ships chain of command. Especially when he looked at the bridge crew. _Three ensigns and four crewmen. Not much to work with,_ he considered his options and cursed Janeway. If the forward view screen were any indication, the battle wasn't going well. He could see Chakotay's intention as the Alpha quadrant ships were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred.

"Mr. Kim," Tom ordered, inlaying his tone with authority few would question, "open a channel to the Maquis ship."

"Aye, Sir," Harry hurried to comply. He, like many in of the ships crew had only ever heard about the special ops division. In this situation, the young Ensign was happy to hand over control of the bridge.

"On screen," Paris directed, making his way to the con. Ejecting the young ensign at that station, he moved on sighting Tom's uniform. Paris's attire gave him special privileges few would question. That fact served him well in this situation. Waiting until the image of _Val Jean'_ s cockpit emerged, he was glad to see Torres in her Maquis garb and seating at her station. "Chakotay, I'll keep the shield down as long as possible while you beam your crew over. I've ordered the transporter Chief to keep a lock on you. I want you out of there before ramming that Kazon vessel."

Nodding, Tom could tell from the tight expression on the Maquis's face he was holding in his fury. Once again the outfit told it's own story. Federation vessels wouldn't allow anyone to replicate this uniform without authorisation, which meant the _Val Jean's_ Captain felt betrayed.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Paris," Chakotay managed to grind out between gritted teeth.

"Let's get out of this first," Tom answered easily, "then we'll discuss it. Paris out. Tactical, report, what's the current situation."

Succinctly Kaplan gave a synopsis of the battle so far. Harry added the reason for the Captain and Tuvok's current mission. Nodding, Tom set a course that would take them between the two Kazon raiders, dividing them long enough for Chakotay to accomplish his mission. Just as _Val Jean_ gave her existence to save _Voyager_ , Paris became aware of someone standing at his side.

"I need you at the Engineering station, Torres," Paris ordered, looking her up and down. It was a signal not to blow her cover until he gave the order. "Once this is over, we're going to need somewhere to lick our wounds and I want the impulse engines running at maximum efficiency and _Voyager_ warp ready."

"Aye, Sir," B'Elanna commented, however the subtle tone in her voice let Tom know she was happy to see him again and had been worried at his incarceration.

"Voyager, report," Janeway's voice came over the com when she felt the impact affect the Caretaker's home.

"The Kazon have reinforcements and one of their vessels collided with the array, Captain," Tom reported. "We are under attack by two raiders. I suggest you beam back, Ma'am."

"What the hell are you doing on my bridge, Mr. Paris," Janeway demanded in an aggressive tone.

"Now is not the time to discuss it, Captain," Paris stated, infusing his voice with professionalism and a touch of censure. "Transporter room two is standing by for your signal. Paris out."

Their mission on the array complete, Janeway and Tuvok had the transporter Chief beam then directly to the bridge. Without missing a step, the Captain ignored the man sitting at the helm dressed in black. She'd deal with that later. Right now there was a job to be done.

Only once the array exploded into a million tiny shards, did Kathryn Janeway allow her fury full reign. "Mr. Paris, my ready room, NOW."

Marching off the bridge with her back ramrod straight, Chakotay and Torres watched in astonishment. Paris indicated the Ensign he replaced retake the con. Giving him explicit instructions, Tom brushed passed Torres.

"You have your orders," he whispered.

Nodding, B'Elanna felt Chakotay's hard glare. "You knew," he accused.

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring back, "from the beginning."

Behind the ready room doors, Kathryn Janeway knew she should be relieved. Tom Paris had taken command and led them to a victory of sorts. Yet she now had to come to terms with a special operations operative as part of her crew. No one would trust the man, Starfleet or Maquis alike. Finally he entered, standing tall and proud, without that arrogant expression on his face.

"Explain yourself," she demanded from behind her desk.

"Ma'am," he returned as slightly annoyed tone to his words, turning the sound into a question and placing the ball in her court.

"Care to tell me why you are wearing that uniform, Mister," Janeway let her anger infuse the words, "and what the hell you were doing on board a Maquis ship, especially when you stopped my security officer from achieving his assignment."

"Commander Paris, Ma'am," Tom offered easily. "Service number Omega six."

"I don't need your rank and serial number, Mr. Paris," Janeway's voice became quieter as she circled around the younger man still standing at attention before her desk.

"I believe my personnel record, at least what is available to your security level, became available the moment I identified myself to the computer. I suggest you read it before asking any more questions, Ma'am," Tom stood straight and kept his eyes focused on the wall.

"We are stranded seventy thousand light years from home," Kathryn Janeway deflated, falling into her chair and opening said files. It took a few seconds to scan the most pertinent information, summarised in the first paragraph. "You're my ranking officer," the Captain stated in a tone saying she didn't like the idea one iota. "I believe you were the one quoting Starfleet protocols, Commander, on the Ocampan Home World. I wondered why. I guess I have my answer. Well, it looks as though I am forced to hand the position of first officer to you, however much I despise you personally."

"As a first officer," Tom stated, not moving a muscle, "I would advise you against such an action, Captain."

That got Kathryn Janeway's attention. "Why?"

"At best, we have decades ahead of us with both Starfleet and Maquis on board. The losses on both ships would have made it impossible to continue without leaving gaping holes in the crew compliments. As such, combining the two crews is now your only option with _Voyager_ alone in this quadrant. Chakotay has command experience and a twenty year Starfleet career. Giving a provisional commission and making him first officer kills two birds with one stone," Tom advised.

"I see the logic," Janeway gave the man before her an assessing look. "What would I do with you, Mr. Paris."

"So far you are the only person who is aware of my true rank. Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Somewhat amused by the sudden change in attitude, Kathryn wanted to know were this was going. "Granted."

"You need a pilot and I'm your best option. As far as anyone's concerned, I might still be a Lieutenant," Paris commented. "Make me Chief Navigation officer and keep the details of my past as obscure as possible. Should there be a need, you could use my unique skill set."

"Which would solve rank issues with Tuvok and Chakotay," Janeway considered the words carefully, and the consequences should she choose to put them into action. "And the issue of combining the two crews with a Maquis first officer. You're going to be despised by both sides, Mr. Paris."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom's eyes once again found that spot on her wall. "One final point, Captain."

"Yes, Mr. Paris," Janeway wondered what would come out of his mouth next.

"You should make B'Elanna Torres your Chief Engineer. I believe you'll find the reasons in the third paragraph of my official file," he stated evenly.

"I'll take it under consideration," Janeway's eyes searched for the explanation as she stated, "Dismissed."

Shaking her head, Kathryn Janeway ordered a hot, black coffee before calling Tuvok into her domain. They had a lot of decisions to make, not the least about the Maquis. Her eyes drinking in the security officer, she stated, "I need your counsel, now more than ever, Tuvok."

"I see the situation with Mr. Paris is resolved," the Vulcan stated.

"Oh, I think it's just started," she responded before getting down to the business of leading her crew home.

* * *

I'm thinking of ending this here. If you want me to continue, let me know. I thought about adding a Seska subplot. Then there is the whole investigations arc that would be interesting with B'Elanna remaining a sleeper agent so to speak. It would be a lot of work as changes would need to be made to some episodes running up to Tom's leaving Voyager.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 **AN** : Thank you to Juddysbuddy, Susan and Beth for the encouragement to continue this work. I'm willing to put the time in, if people are willing to read. I hope you enjoying the ride as much as it gives me pleasure to write.

On a secondary note, I'm completely confused as to the crew compliment of Voyager. Lt. Sadi states 141 personnel in Caretaker, the official drawing (found at homedotblazingumbradotcom) states 30 officers and 120 enlisted, meaning Voyager was understaffed on her shake down cruise. Added to that, the intricate detailed schematics list 4 VIP, 1 Captain, 22 Senior Officer, 28 Officer, 8 Petty Officer and 120 Enlisted crew quarters, but when you actually tally them with the drawing, you guessed it, they don't match! It's sending my OCD into the stratosphere. That would mean a crew compliment of 180 with 50 officers and the Captain. Too many chiefs and not enough Indians if you ask me!

Thomas Paris strode out of the Captain's ready room, onto the bridge. He didn't let his boiling emotions through the mask of neutrality. Rarely had he felt this angry. Only those who knew him well, that being B'Elanna Torres in this situation, could see the disquiet shining in his blazing blue eyes. One glance and she knew, whatever they'd discussed, had not gone well.

Walking past the tactical station, Tom nodded at Tuvok. The Vulcan understood Captain Janeway would soon require his counsel. The weeks spent in _Val Jean's_ brig with daily visits from Mr. Paris gave the Security Officer time to analyse his character. Unsurprised by the SpecOp's uniform, it gave the operative special dispensation and privilege aboard any Federation vessel, one Tuvok had little doubt Mr. Paris would used to carry his point with the Captain. Returning the gesture, Tuvok gave command to Mr. Paris. He wished to further evaluate the officers competency before giving the Captain his opinion.

"Tuvok," Tom requested in a calm but firm tone stating he was in control, "where have _Val Jean's_ crew been located since beaming aboard?"

"A security detail transferred twenty five individuals from the transporter rooms to the starboard senior officers lounge on deck four," Tuvok responded easily.

Heading to the tactical station, Tom called up the schematics. _Voyagers_ security team had chosen rooms within a few metres of the beam in site. The Maquis crew didn't have the opportunity to escape or observe any ships systems, which begged the question, how had Torres managed to make it to the bridge. He'd ask her later, in case she'd been forced to blow her cover.

"What is our condition, Ensign Kim," Tom turned his attention to the operation station.

"Minor casualties and damage to decks eight, eleven and twelve. Repairs are under way and shields are holding, Sir," Harry answered, watching the body language of the individual dressed completely in black. The Ensign's eyes flicked to Lt. Tuvok, who watched the display dispassionately and indicated the bridge crew should follow Mr. Paris's orders.

"Thank you, Ensign," Tom smiled as he watched the young man. He couldn't be more than twenty two or three and had spent days on the Ocampa world with Torres, who wasn't much older. When Paris got the chance, he meant to compare notes with B'Elanna on that experience and her thoughts on Mr. Kim.

"Torres, do we have warp capability?" Tom turned his attention to the engineering station.

"Warp two," B'Elanna turned and stated. "Beyond that, I can't guarantee the integrity of the plasma manifolds. They need to be taken out and visually inspected. The entire engineering section has taken heavy damage over the last few days. We need time to make major repairs. The con will have to watch the power fluctuations or we might be back to manoeuvring thrusters."

When Paris took the con from Crewman Grimes, he'd noticed a small M class moon in a system three light years away. Before joining the Captain in her ready room, he'd ordered the pilot to remain on course at full impulse. Calculating the distance to the small moon, it would take them months to reach at their current maximum speed.

"Increase to Warp two, Mr. Grimes, and steady as she goes," Paris ordered. "Mr. Kim there is a class M moon three light years distant on our current heading."

"Sensors indicate breathable atmosphere, moderate mineral and vegetative resources. No signs of a warp capable civilisation but a large and diverse fauna population," Harry read the information off his stations monitors. It seemed ideal for repairs.

"We should be able to collect supplies and hide from the Kazon for a while," Tom answered the curious glances from the junior bridge crew.

 _It will take us months to reach that moon_ , Tom considered, _at this speed. While the bridge crew have accepted my authority, I'm not sure if Engineering will without seeing me in uniform and then clearing my orders with the Captain. Dam the woman, hiding in her ready room. We need decisions to be made now. Voyager is in hostile territory, damaged and limping away with the best engineer Starfleet has ever seen trying to make repairs for a bridge station. Jabin has reinforcements on the way. We need to be out of this region before they converge on us._

"Bridge to Engineering," Paris barked, making up his mind to stamp his authority, the consequences be dammed.

"Engineering," came the strained voice, tinged with questioning.

Tom could almost see the expression on the face of the most senior officer, trying to make our who was commanding _Voyager_. Taking the Captain's seat, Paris engaged the computer. Looking up the crew manifest, Tom ordered, "Lt. Carey, please work with Engineer Torres at the bridge station. I want _Voyager_ warp six capable at the earliest possible moment."

"Sir," came the still uncertain tone of Lt. Carey, "I need the warp core off line to effect repairs."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Carey," Tom stated, keeping his sigh internalised but adding a slightly optimistic overtone. "We need to put some distance between us and the Kazon before they call in reinforcements. I've instructed the helm to drop to full impulse when you have those engines at full capacity."

"Aye, Sir," Carey responded, recognising whoever was on the bridge, understood the danger and had calculated their best chance for survival.

"Mr. Rollins," Tom called when he noticed Tuvok had very quietly reported to the Captain's ready room. The Lieutenant was the next most experienced officer on the bridge rotations, and only junior grade. _What was Starfleet thinking_ , Tom wondered yet again, _sending out such an inexperienced crew. Even the Doctor and first officer had barely worn in their third half pips before coming on board._

"Aye, Sir," Rollins turned from one of the standing stations at the rear of the bridge, allowing Tom to identify him.

"You have the bridge, Lieutenant. I'll be addressing the crew of _Val Jean_ ," Tom stated. "Chakotay, you're with me."

Striding to the Turbolift, Tom waited for the doors to close before turning to face the angry Maquis and beating him to the punch line. "Yes, Torres knew everything, from the moment we left Earth," he answered the unasked question.

"So she said," Chakotay spat. "Guilt at getting her kicked out of Starfleet is no excuse to drag her into this."

"I didn't drag B'Elanna into anything," Tom's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I suppose she chose to follow you," the Maquis tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Starfleet gave her no choice," Tom declared, but in a cold, calculating manner. "They discredited her senior thesis and expelled her before graduating because she tried to do the right thing by exonerating me. The truth doesn't always win out, Chakotay. I was once naive enough to believe that. We both were. Starfleet made us grow up, fast."

"How do you expect me to believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Paris," demanded Chakotay, his eyes narrowed and mouth taught.

"Because everything I've ever told you is a matter of public record," Tom responded easily. "I know you checked it out before accepting us into the Maquis."

"It's a great cover story," Chakotay stated, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes," Tom threw back with biting honesty, "it was. I did not cause the shuttle crash. Starfleet knew it but that didn't stop them using the incident to their own advantage and forcing me into special operations. My alternative was ten to fifteen for murder. Tell me you wouldn't have taken the same option, Commander." Pausing to let that sink in, Tom sighed. "The one dispensation they allowed was to take Torres with me, away from the public opinion of being labeled a liar. You know how that would have effected B'Elanna. When my mission is over, she's allowed to regain her status and her life, if that's what she wants."

"I'm crying tears of sympathy," Chakotay responded, his face set in a hard expression of dislike.

"You should be," Tom answered scathingly. "Neither of us ever signed up for the Maquis, yet can you honestly say we haven't given everything to the cause?"

Chakotay glared, understanding both Paris and Torres had saved his crew time and again, from both Cardassian and Federation capture.

"I might not have told you in words," Tom looked the furious man in the eye, holding his gaze and keeping his tone deadly. "I told you not to ask questions you didn't want the answer too. Where do you think all the parts just magically appeared from to keep _Liberty_ and then _Val Jean_ running? What about the armaments and weapons, they don't grow on trees in the DMZ. I might have a boyish charm, but even I couldn't acquire the supplies you needed on Maquis funds. You used me as much as I used you, Chakotay, even if you don't want to admit it. Every piece of information I gained about the Cardassian's went straight back to Starfleet command, you knew it because I was honest about that much. Hell, you even helped by agreeing to half the crazy missions I've suggested over the last three years."

"How much does the Federation know about the Maquis?" Chakotay demanded, his hands fisting at his side.

"That's what's got you hopping mad," Tom rolled his eyes incredulously. "Well let me tell you intelligence knew what you were going to do the moment you resigned your commission. I got assigned to infiltrate your cell because you recruited ex-Starfleet personnel. Your crew compliment and objectives were never part of my mission."

"What about Torres?" Chakotay demanded. "Can I trust her any more than I can trust you?"

"I've given you as much as you have the right to know, Chakotay," Tom seethed. "Don't ask questions you don't have the balls to accept when it doesn't meet with your ideals. Right now, you need to be more concerned about your crew and what's going to happen to them. I need to stop at the brig."

"Getting rid of your competition," Chakotay snarled.

"Getting rid of this dam uniform," Tom hissed. "I hated it during training and I loath it now. Look, Chakotay, you can be as mad at me as you want, I've got broad shoulders and a hell of a lot more difficulties than your bruised ego to deal with. It's not going to change the fact the Maquis are stranded on a Federation ship half way across the galaxy far from a fight that means nothing in comparison to our survival." Arriving at Deck four, Paris retraced his steps to the brig. Chucking the SpecOp's jacket, along with his discarded Maquis uniform from his former brig cell into a replicated backpack. Tom ordered a standard command stream replacement. Palming the three gold pips before Chakotay noticed, he slipped two onto his collar and hid the other in his kit as he threw the bag over one shoulder. "Let's get this over with," Tom muttered under his breath. "I've had about as much anger directed at me for doing my job as I can take today."

Walking into the room containing twenty five crew from _Val Jean_ , the atmosphere changed as soon as they noticed their first officer in Starfleet attire with Lieutenant pips at his collar. All conversation stopped and eyes turned hostile as the Maquis understood they'd been duped. The fact Chakotay stood at Paris's shoulder made the crew hesitate. Taking in a deep breath, the security team moved closer to Paris for his protection. It seemed Tuvok had informed them of his true identity.

"I know most of you are going to believe I'm a traitor and you're right, in some respects," Tom opened with the truth. It gained him the seconds he needed to get to the issue at hand. "That doesn't mean you should ignore what I have to say. Many of you have served with me for three years on _Liberty_ and then _Val Jean._ You know me, so I ask you to listen and listen well because your future is dependant on it. We are stranded seventy thousand light years from the Alpha quadrant, _Voyager_ is damaged from our battle with the Kazon. There is a class M moon that can be easily settled within three light years but it will take us months to get there unless essential repairs are completed. Each minute we remain in this space is asking for another Kazon attack. You now face a choice. Either join Captain Janeway's Starfleet crew, spend the next seventy five years in the brig or settle in the Delta quardrent."

"Chakotay," Ayala shouted above the sudden maelstrom of angry voices, glaring at the few who continued to mutter under their breaths. "Is this true?"

"Yes," their captain agreed, unable to look even one member of his crew in the eye. " _Val Jean_ is gone. Captain Janeway was forced to destroy the Array that brought us here. We're stuck far from home with no easy answers or way back."

Another bout of shouting erupted. "Attention," Tom yelled after giving the crowd time enough to understand their predicament but not enough to turn their anger on him. Thankfully, due to two thirds of the crew having at least two years Starfleet experience, they fell in immediately. The rest followed without thought.

"Paris is Special Operations," Chakotay made his displeasure at being duped obvious. "He infiltrated our crew and has been reporting Cardassian movements back to Starfleet. However his assessment of our current situation is correct."

"I've met with Captain Janeway and suggested Chakotay as the best option for first officer," Tom stated, capturing the gazes of the few trouble makers making up _Val Jean's_ crew. Several of the more experienced members nodded their heads in understanding. They could see the logic of having one of their own highly placed in the command structure. "Further, I've indicated Voyager couldn't get a better Chief Engineer than Torres. To that end, she's managed to remain on the bridge, helping to get the warp engines back on line. I don't know if the Captain will allow her to continue until you've decided your future."

"What about you, Paris," came the distinct voice of Seska from the back of the room.

"I declined the position of first officer," Tom stated neutrally. Coming as a surprise to Chakotay, the man glanced at Paris, only to understand he was telling the truth. "I suggested Chief Con and Navigator. Captain Janeway is considering her options."

"How the hell do you know all this?" Demanded Jonas.

"He's special ops you idiot," Hanson responded. "Besides if you used you brain you'd see it makes sense. I don't know about you lot, but I'd rather take my chances with _Voyager_ if Chakotay is going to be the first officer, Torres is Chief Engineer and Tom's at the helm."

"Can we trust him," asked Tabor. He'd turned eighteen last week and finally managed to join Chakotay's cell. His experience of the first officer came from word of mouth.

"I understand if you don't," Tom stated, his face carefully schooled into neutrality. "I want you to think not only about your future, but the crew of _Voyager_. There are one hundred men and women who didn't ask to be stuck in the Delta quadrant any more than you. They have families and reasons for getting home that equal ours. Without the two crews combining, our chance decreases. Chakotay gave up _Val Jean_ to give us all the opportunity to survive. We've lived through worse."

"Sounds like you've made up your mind," Seska once again heckled.

"I don't have a choice," Tom answered, his tone emotionless. "You do."

Captain Janeway entered with Tuvok at her side, listening to the meeting. It seemed Tom Paris had won over the Security Officer, giving the Special Ops agent one supporter. There was little Kathryn Janeway could condemn in Mr. Paris's official file. Yet she'd never felt so disconcerted by one of her officers. If anything, Commander Thomas Paris was acting as if born to the position to the command team. Then again he had the genetics, coming from a long line of fleet Admirals.

"Very nice speech, Mr. Paris. I couldn't have put it better myself," she stated acerbically, watching the man through narrowed eyes. Turning her attention to the Maquis Captain, Janeway announced, "I expect your answer in two hours. Mr. Chakotay, report to my ready room when you have a consensus. We'll commence the arrangements at that time."

"Yes, Captain," he nodded, shocked at the level of animosity toward Paris. It seemed the _Voyager_ crew had as little knowledge of Tom's mission as he had.

"Mr. Paris, I'd like you to accompany me," Janeway left no room for argument with her tone.

Falling in behind the woman, and not failing to notice the two security guards following them, they didn't travel far down the corridor. Standing before a door, the Captain indicated Tom should enter his code into the security panel. The door opened to his new quarters.

"I'm impressed," Paris forced his usual joviality into his tone, "Senior officers quarters. A little sparse, but seeing everything I owned is now fused with Jabin's ship, I guess it will have to do."

"Good, because you're due on the bridge in twenty minutes," Janeway stated.

"Am I to gather you agreed with my recommendations, Captain?" He pushed, knowing he shouldn't have informed the Maquis of his actions. Yet Tom recognised the need to combine the two crews as quickly as possible. He knew these people and how to manipulate their loyalty to serve the greater good.

"Yes. Only I'm not going to suppress your rank, Commander," Janeway added, holding out her hand for the third gold pip. It didn't take long for her to pin it to his uniform.

"Are you going to insist I change back into black," Tom couldn't help the biting tone. "That way you'd ensure I'm completely ostracised from the entire crew."

Smirking, Janeway added, "it's a nice thought, Mr. Paris, but I'll leave that for the first time you defy my orders. Oh, and I read your file, every word. If Lt. Torres wants Engineering, she'll have to prove herself. I'm giving her a provisional commission and keeping her part in all of this off the record. You can let her know she has a month and has to work in conjunction with Lt. Carey."

Truly angered for the first time, Tom offered a, "yes, Ma'am," which held every gram of contempt he could muster without overstepping his authority.

After the Captain left, he recorded his personal log stating his objections to Janeway's plan. Taking a quick shower, Tom removed the offending pip from his uniform as he researched Voyager's deck and systems. His time up, Lt. Paris moved out of his quarters towards the turbolift.

"Let the games begin," he muttered under his breath, wondering what reception he'd get once he appeared on the bridge, having defied his new captain at the first opportunity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **AN:** This chapter takes place concurrently with the last one and is B'Elanna's interpretation of what occurred.

* * *

"You have your orders," Tom whispered quietly.

Brushing past B'Elanna, she couldn't help her eyes following his figure as it disappeared into the Captain's ready room. Tom's cover well and truly blown only his rank had been suppressed by his official dress. If anyone managed to capture the words, they'd assume Mr. Paris of the SpecOp's uniform needed her at the Engineering station and _Voyager's_ engines running at maximum efficiency. _That's not what Tom meant but I'm the only one who knows it. He wants me to keep my cover story. It's going to be a hell of a ride seeing as my master's project helped designed half the bioneural systems in engineering on this ship._

Internally Torres seethed, hating the fact she was playing a part she loathed. It took the entire six weeks of basic training to turn her animosity towards Tom Paris into a begrudging friendship, understanding they were both victims of the same cruel circumstance. On the three week journey from Earth to the DMZ, SpecOp's assigned them a single cabin on an old and temperamental transport freighter. Torres spent much of her time helping the crew repair their dilapidated engines. Pretended to be lovers, Torres and Paris intended to use the time to plan their mission. The close quarters had worked in their favour, at first causing several arguments, before they truly came to know each other, to trust and rely on their partner in this absurd and enforced journey.

It had been the freighters Captain, sympathetic to the Maquis cause who gained them an interview and provided a personal recommendation to that organisation. It didn't take long for Tom and B'Elanna to understand SpecOp's set the situation to their advantage. Their cover story solid, Chakotay took them on easily. It had been a year before their Captain began to suspect Tom's divided loyalties. After discussing the matter, Torres and Paris decided to inform Chakotay about Tom's information gathering activities. He'd assumed it was for Admiral Paris, the bonds of blood being thick enough to overcome their familiarly animosity.

B'Elanna felt Chakotay's hard glare transfer from Tom to her the moment he ready room doors closed. _Val Jean's_ Captain was trying to analyse the sudden changes to his command crew and the situation they now found themselves in. The relationship between the Captain, First and Second Officers had been tight and playful until this event. It seemed Chakotay was reassessing the last three years, looking for evidence of Tom's, and possibly her deception.

"You knew," he accused with a hiss. Anger laced his tone as he tried to supress his contemptuous expression. Chakotay prided himself on being fair and keeping his temper in check. It was bubbling very close to the surface.

"Yes," B'Elanna said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring back, "from the beginning. It was hard not to, the way Starfleet guilted Tom into SpecOps. I chose to accompany him."

"Why?" Chakotay demanded.

"What other choice did I have?" B'Elanna returned her attention to the console before her, fingers flying over the buttons. Furious, she explained, "some Admiral snapped his fingers and four years at the academy were wiped out. Not only did the Federation stop me graduating, my academic knowledge was questioned and publically discredited. Who but the Maquis would take on an unqualified, Starfleet dropout?"

Nodding his understanding, Chakotay could see the logic of her argument. Besides, Gruul had vouched for her skills and brought proof of Torres allegations against Starfleet. The only question that still plagued him was her unwavering bond with Paris. They'd been friends from the start, coming as a pair. At first he'd thought the relationship romantic. Their first argument cured the entire crew of _Liberty_ of that thought. Only a few days ago, Tom admitted to falling for the fiery half Klingon.

"If you don't mind, I have work to do. I need to get whoever is in charge down in engineering moving at more than walking pace," Torres growled her displeasure, "or the Kazon will show up with more reinforcements than a Cardassian Battle Cruiser."

Understanding, Chakotay took several steps away and watched B'Elanna work. She seemed both comfortable and familiar with the Engineering station that was light years more advanced than her console on _Val Jean_. It didn't stop her Klingon temper getting the better of her as she brought tiny but incredibly strong fists down on the panel in pure frustration. Had this been his ship, more than one lip would have been split and angry Klingon curses would have rent the air.

Lost in her assignment, Torres called up the specific schematics of _Voyager_ and the crew compliment of engineering. Lt. Commander Howard had been killed by plasma venting through the pressure release valves attached to the warp coil assembly. The Captain had been forced to attended Engineering to help Lt. Carey lock down the manifolds and stop a core breach. Now, they'd have to removed the entire subsystem and visually inspect the parts before putting it all back together.

 _At least three hours work,_ Torres continued to seethe, _at the pace they're working down there. I could have it done in half that time. Hell, I'm the most qualified engineer on this ship and have the highest rank, not that anyone except Tom knows that. Not to mention my years with the Maquis making do without the assistance of starbases and repair facilities. If Janeway knows whats good for her ship, she'll give me the authority to get that engine room in shape._

Flicking through the crew compliment of Engineering, Lt. Carey had been assigned the role of assistant to the Chief for this cruise. Obviously he was being considered for a promotion. Three senior officers and six crewmen had been killed in the initial displacement wave, leaving the department dangerously inexperienced and understaffed. One junior grade lieutenant was assigned to engineering, with four ensigns as backup, none with more than eighteen months experience.

Fingers racing over the console, B'Elanna locked out several stations on deck eleven. The operators were working on inconsequential repairs. Sending orders from her bridge command station, she redirected Ensign Ashmore and three crewmen to the port impulse engine for a visual inspection. Suggesting they carefully scrutinise the EPS couplings attached to the ion flow regulator and the connections between the bioneural network, Torres turned her attention to the issues of the warp repairs. That would be more complicated without facing down Carey who was going about it in a traditional Starfleet manner.

 _Just as well your back on the bridge, Paris_ , B'Elanna noticed Tom exiting the Captain's ready room, _I need some backup. Lt. Carey's an idiot._

It seemed Tom Paris was not happy with Janeway and their discussion. However, Tuvok handed over command. Within a few minutes, Paris wanted to know the capacity of their propulsion systems. He then ordered Lt. Carey to listen to Engineer Torres. She could have kissed the man, allowing her the authority to get repairs moving. Now all B'Elanna required was the Captain's approval to get down to the engine room and call the shots in person.

"Janeway to Torres," B'Elanna had been so focused, she almost missed the Captain's com. Irritated at the interruption, Torres noticed Tom had left a lieutenant in charge of the bridge and Chakotay was absent. Tuvok exited the Captain's sanctuary to relieve the younger man. Before answering, B'Elanna finished giving Ashmore further instructions. Her theory had been correct. The radiation from the tricobolt torpedos affected the gel pack interfaces with the physical engine systems. They needed immediate rerouting.

"Torres here," she tapped her com, continuing to type out detailed instructions to Lt. Carey and Lt. Nicoletti. Torres used her authority to call in the entire engineering compliment, but knew they'd need to start taking breaks soon. When they did, B'Elanna had ideas where she could get a relief staff that would actually accept her orders and do the job she asked without question.

"My ready room," Janeway demanded.

Growling her impatience, B'Elanna stalked across the bridge. Finger's jabbing at the call button, she was offered immediate entry. Feeling her Starfleet training taking over, Torres stood at ease before the Captain's desk and waited. Internally, her Klingon temper was reaching warp core temperatures. She had better things to do than await this woman's pleasure. However B'Elanna's SpecOp's training forced her to focus her eyes on a spot on the opposite wall.

"I understand you know Commander Paris, very well," Janeway opened suggestively.

"Commander," B'Elanna's lips smiled while her eyes flashed dangerously. She'd never let the crew of _Val Jean_ discuss the closeness of their friendship and she sure as hell wasn't about to discuss it with a Captain she didn't know. "Last time we talked, Tom was only a Lt. Commander."

Allowing an eyebrow to arch in a very Vulcan movement, Janeway decided to wait the woman out. Her effort was in vain. Torres continued to stand at ease, not displaying her emotions, except through her blazing eyes. "Commander Paris has recommended you for Chief Engineer. You're academic record is questionable and you never completed your masters."

"PhD," B'Elanna corrected in a sharp tone. "I completed all the requirements for my undergraduate degree by the end of my third year. The following summer session I achieved the extra credits to gain my masters in Bioneural Circuitry Interfaces with Current Propulsion systems. Had I been allowed to complete the summer session at the end of my final year, I would have written my research as a thesis and graduated as Dr. B'Elanna Torres. I'd discovered honesty was not part of Starfleet's officer training and obviously they don't teach it to Admirals either. I know exactly what my file states and there is no question as to my academic competence. My inability to keep my mouth shut seems to have been the issue, coupled with my naivety in the concept of fairness and equality."

"Are you done?" Janeway asked. Although the words were rebellious, they were delivered in an unwavering tone dripping with sarcasm. Much like Commander Paris, Torres came close to defiance of Starfleet behavioural regulations but not enough to warrent disciplinary action.

"I haven't even started, Captain," B'Elanna stated, finally levelling her gaze on the Captain. "I need to be down in engineering, directing the repairs as Chief. If you read the final paper I published with Professor Chapman and the R&D staff at Utopia Planitia, you'll notice I slammed the interfacing systems in the development of the new Intrepid class engines, they're to easily friable and infected. We were in the final stages of designing this vessel when my work was discredited, including my PhD findings that Bioneural circuitry was not all it's cracked up to be. Our current issues with the impulse and warp engines can be traced back to the physical/biological junctions. They all need to be replaced if you want to get _Voyager_ home in one piece."

Shocked into speechlessness, Janeway observed the woman for several minutes. Torres didn't flinch or react, although her eyes continued to blaze. How she was holding in that Klingon temper, Kathryn couldn't guess. It seemed three years in the Maquis had taught her when to unleash her fury. Feeling the situation spiralling out of control, the Captain recalled Tuvok's wise council.

"Mr. Paris is correct, Captain," the Vulcan had stood in much the same spot as B'Elanna not a quarter of an hour ago. "Making a known SpecOp's agent first officer is not a prudent move. Neither Maquis nor Starfleet crew would accept his ability easily. With your obvious animosity towards Mr. Paris, it would undermine his authority and hamper your ability to command, not to mention create dissension between the two of you. Mr. Chakotay, with his decades of experience, including five as a first officer on an Excelsior class starship must be your obvious choice. He is well versed in recent Starfleet protocol and has the loyalty of the Maquis. Our crew will accept his authority with your guidance."

"What about you, Tuvok," Janeway asked.

"I am content with my position as Tactical officer," he stated.

"I have the ability to offer a field promotion," Janeway hinted.

"It would serve no purpose, Captain. For the same reasons as Mr. Paris, promoting me to First Officer would not be a wise move. I do not hold the Maquis loyalty and my skills are better utilised in my current position," Tuvok concluded.

"What am I to do with Mr. Paris," the Captain asked, leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful expression.

"He is the most senior and experienced pilot currently on board," Tuvok responded. "It is not inconceivable to allow Mr. Paris up to the rank of Lt. Commander and the position of Chief Navigator. Mr. Paris was, after all, the first officer on _Val Jean_ as well as a Starfleet graduate with several years experience on starships in the command stream. I have tested his knowledge by giving him command of the bridge. I am impressed with his conduct so far. We have the capacity for three officers of Commander rank, usually as the head of Engineering, Medical and First officer. It is not inconceivable to have con officer promoted to such a position."

"Sometimes," Janeway stood and moved to stand at her window. Watching the stars streak by, she let out a sigh. "Your logic is not what I want to hear, Tuvok. Mr. Paris holds the rank of full SpecOp's Commander. By rights he is more than capable of filling the EO's duties."

"It is neither a wise nor a logical decision," the Vulcan answered.

" _Val Jean_ only had three officers," Janeway commented, almost absent mindedly. "I've read B'Elanna Torres file before she was expelled from the academy. It's impressive. She would have had quite a career in Starfleet. Then there is the three years she's been running engineering on the Maquis decrepit ship. If she can keep those engines going under such circumstances, I can't ignore her talent in our present situation."

"It would appear she is more than qualified. I observed," Tuvok said, "B'Elanna Torres while on _Val Jean_. Her skill is, in my opinion, excellent. Repairs to the brig were carried out efficiently and immediately. The security detail spoke of her engineering knowledge and management with admiration, concluding they would have long since been dead without Ms. Torres ability to improvise."

"Are you suggesting I make her Chief Engineer, Tuvok," Janeway turned to her Security officer with an astonished expression.

"It would seem the logical option," he answered.

"All three of the Maquis officers within my command structure," Janeway questioned, ensuring she understood.

"A wise man once said, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It would be prudent to ensure you have Mr. Chakotay's loyalty, place Ms. Torres in a position that will take up all her time and keep Mr. Paris on the bridge sitting directly before you," Tuvok concluded.

"So you don't trust them any more than I do?" Janeway smiled. "I see your point. Thank you for your insight, Tuvok. Dismissed."

Tapping her com badge, Kathryn Janeway's mind came back to the present. The Captain had already decided to make B'Elanna Chief Engineer, but played with Torres to uncover her character. In fact, Janeway was using the tactic of divide and conquer. Only it seemed nothing would drive a wedge between Paris and Torres. As these thoughts ran through Kathryn's mind, the woman still stood before her, carefully watching but sprung like a wound coil.

"Janeway to Lt. Carey," the Captain's tone indicated she'd made a decision. When her most senior but woefully under qualified engineer answered, she ordered, "I'm sending Lt. Torres down to Engineering. I want the two of you to work together to get those impulse and warp engines operating at maximum efficiency. Lt. Torres has experience with the bioneural junctions that seem to be causing issues."

"Understood, Captain," Carey responded, even if there was a note of displeasure in his tone.

"Janeway out," she ended the call, glaring at Torres. Standing, Janeway approached the replicator, and ordered a provisional full lieutenants' rank bar. Holding it out to B'Elanna, the Captain gave her first order in a long list that would need to be achieved today. "Lt. Torres, I expect you in uniform before entering engineering. Your quarters are located on deck seven, section gamma three. Dismissed."

B'Elanna didn't have time to pack her meagre belongings before beaming over to _Voyager._ When Tom had failed to materialise beside her after being rescued from the Ocampan world, it had taken time to understand Captain Janeway held him to the brig. Knowing Tom could escape when he chose, B'Elanna hadn't been surprised to hear his commanding voice on the Federation vessel's bridge. She managed be the last to beam over, choosing to appear in the forward turbolift, and thereby avoiding Voyager's security.

Ignoring her assigned quarters, B'Elanna headed for the senior officers lounge on deck two. Replicating a new uniform, she changed in the nearest head. Tores knew it wouldn't be long before the ships excesses were curtailed. Starfleet personnel had never had to go without replicators or heat or light to conserve power and resources. They were in for a steep learning curve.

"Yosa, Suder, Bendera, Jonas and Jor, you're with me," B'Elanna ordered on entering the Senior Officers lounge containing the Maquis crew. Security allowed her entry, obviously pre warned. The Vulcan tactical officer appeared to be very good at his job, something Torres would have to discuss with Paris, when they got the opportunity. "We have to get the warp engine back on line."

"What are you doing in that uniform," Seska demanded, pushing her way towards the front of the crowd.

"I'm trying to get us home," Torres placed her hands on her hips in a stance many knew and wouldn't challenge.

"You and Tom Paris were always such good friends," Seska tormented.

At the end of her patience, B'Elanna struck out at the woman she never really liked much. The crunch of bone was satisfying. "Anyone else want to say something about Paris," she demanded. "Good, because the story you got when we joined the Maquis was the truth. The only detail left out was Tom being forced into SpecOp's for an accident he didn't cause or face ten to fifteen years in a Federation Penal Settlement for murder. Ensign," she called the security officer, "please escort Seska to sickbay. I'm ordering these five crewmembers to change into operations uniforms and accompany me to engineering."

Before either man could protest, B'Elanna was moving towards the turbolift. Explaining what she wanted done, the five Maquis nodded their understanding. With Torres as the chief of engineering, they didn't need to tell Chakotay there decision. It seemed obvious they'd stay on _Voyager_ even if that meant following Starfleet protocols.

"Lt. Carey," Torres called, stepping through the doors with her entourage.

"I guess you must be Torres," he noticed the provisional rand insignia on the half Klingon woman.

"Lt. Torres, Mr. Carey," B'Elanna held the man's gaze until he looked away. "I want you to set up a roster for six hour breaks, starting immediately. Our crew need time to sleep and eat so we can get through all the necessary repairs. When Ashmore gets back from restoring the impulse engine, let the con know. Then we'll take the warp engine off line and pull the plasma manifolds out for visual inspection."

"I don't see a need…" Carey started.

"I guarantee they have micro fractures caused by the tircobolt torpedo," Torres stated. "Vorik can be in charge of the assignment, they're his area of specialty."

"How the hell do you know that?" Carey demanded.

"I read his file while on the bridge," Torres responded acidly. "Alright people, gather round for you assignments."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

Tom entered the bridge, gazing around to find Mr. Rollin's still in the Captain's seat. It was little more than Lt. Paris expected after his interview with Janeway. Although _Voyager_ was in hostile space, they were experiencing a moment of reprieve, allowing the Captain time to make decisions and implement them immediately. She needed to get her ship in order, appoint senior staff and keep morel at a sustainable level until repairs were made. He'd be doing the same, especially if some upstart SpecOps officer suddenly appeared on his bridge, proceeded to address a group of terrorist, talking them into joining the crew and had the audacity to suggest the make up of the command team. Truthfully, the Captain knew she didn't have a choice, she'd have to invite the thirty members of the Maquis to sure up the gaping holes in her compliment. Commander Thomas Paris would be doing the same in Janeway's position, especially if that same SpecOp's Officer had been the EO of said terrorist group and then proceeded to talk them into joining the crew. The final straw would be the lack of experienced senior personnel and the audacity to suggest the Maquis makeup half of her senior leadership team.

"I guess I have a reprieve," Tom smirked inwardly, understanding it wouldn't last. Too many had seen his SpecOp's uniform. On a ship this size, the rumour mill would already be hard at work. By tomorrow morning, ships time, Tom Paris's part would be blown out of all proportion and his reputation, personal and professional, under scrutiny. Neither Fleeter or Maquis would be talking to him, waiting to see how he reacted. The the surly 'Yes, Sir's' would start and he'd have to work for every bit of respect. Tom smirked inwardly, feeling the full weight of two pips on his collar and happy it's wasn't the three the captain insisted upon. That would have brought more responsibility and hostility from the crew. It had been a long time since his behaviour was controlled by Starfleet rules and regulations. Although Chakotay attempted to run _Val Jean_ as if a fleet ship, their mandate forced other considerations to take priority.

Tom's entry had been noticed by the junior officers. Eyes wide, they saw the command red uniform and rank on his collar. Mr. Rollin's immediately gave up his position to Lt. Paris. The junior grade lieutenant took the tactical station from an Ensign in yellow. Mr. Kim remained at operations, while Crewman Grimes maned at the con, sparing Paris a quick glance over his shoulder. Obviously their duty shifts weren't over yet, or the relief crew had been reassigned to repairs. Torres abandoned the engineering alcove, leading Tom to suspect B'Elanna was currently attempting to get the impulse and warp engines back online.

"I'm assuming double shifts have been ordered until repairs are complete, Lt. Rollin's," Tom stated.

"Aye, Sir," Rollin's answered.

"Then let's make sure we all relieve each other for breaks. Please organise fifteen minutes every three hours in addition to regular meal breaks," Tom ordered.

"Ensign Kaplan, Crewman Bell, you're up first," Rollin's stated, turning his attention to his task.

"Are we still at warp two, Mr. Grimes?" Tom requested, trying to establish how the engine repairs were proceeding while keeping track of the personnel leaving the bridge. He needed to learn their names and quickly. Addressing a person correctly gave the impression he'd taken the time to establish a relationship. Right now, Paris knew he needed as many crew on side as possible.

"Aye, Sir," the pilot responded.

Tom tapped his badge. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Torres here," B'Elanna's voice responded with a slight growl of frustration. "Before you ask, Paris, I need the con to drop to impulse. Ensign Vorik is ready to commence work on the warp assembly that's been damaged. Another two hours and you'll have warp six. Let's hope that moon offers us a little reprieve. It's going to take at least two days to get the major systems patched up."

"Acknowledged, Paris out," Tom smiled. Redirecting his attention to the con, he ordered, "drop to impulse, Mr. Grimes."

"Aye, Sir," he responded with a smile.

Half an hour passed before Captain Janeway and Lt. Tuvok entered the bridge with Chakotay in a similar red uniform at their side. Wearing a provisional rank of Lt. Commander, he proceeded into the Captain's ready room, leaving the Security Officer on the bridge. Once again, Tuvok indicated Mr. Paris should remain in command, which gave the bridge crew the impression that Lt. Paris's rank, especially in command red, outstripped Tuvok's Operations yellow. It was a subtle move Tom hadn't considered. Understanding the game was afoot, that Captain Janeway and Tuvok were working together, he needed to fortify his own position and stamp his authority on the command structure. Preferring to pace from one station to another while in charge, Tom was forced into a decision he hadn't wanted to make. Lt. Paris took the Captain's chair with all the pride bread into him over the generation of Paris Officers.

 _Janeway isn't going to browbeat me,_ he seethed silently. _She might have been taught by my father, but so have I. In the end, I know my father was proud of me, even if we haven't spoken for the last three years and have all the appearances of being estranged. I saw it in his eye when he shook my hand and walked out of Admiral Patterson's office._

Feeling useless, Tom would have preferred to be at the con. On this occasion, he'd be able to access all of _Voyager's_ systems, and learn about the ship and its crew. Ensuring his face remained neutral, Lt. Paris continued to sit in the Captain's chair, board beyond belief while they literally travelled at a snail's pace thought empty space. Ten minutes later, he knew he had to do something to relieve the boredom. Gaining entry to the command computer between the Captain's and EO's seat with his SpecOp's override, Tom understood he'd pay for the insult. It gave him the ability to retrieve to every file on the main computer core with his level of access. Starting with Kathryn Janeway, he skimmed twenty seven files, mostly the senior staff and pilots, before being distracted by an incoming com.

"Engineering to Bridge," B'Elanna sounded in control, almost as if she had a smirk on her face. Long association between Torres and Paris, Tom knew she'd whipped the Starfleet engineers into shape and her engines were exactly were she wanted them to be.

"You're about fifteen minutes early, Lt. Torres," Tom couldn't hold the grin back. It also infused his tone. "It seems you've solved the issues with the warp engine. Can I inform the helm its ahead warp six?"

Paris saw the note Captain Janeway placed in B'Elanna's file, wishing he'd been a fly on the wall for their little discussion about her PhD. It brought to mind the time the Federation set out to capture Torres after a raid on the Xinna colony. She'd been trying to source dilithium for _Liberty's_ warp core. It had been a set up with SpecOp's. USS _Yemen_ grabbed B'Elanna and attempted to transport her to Starbase 310 for questioning. Of course she met another agent on _Yemen_ , passed on their intelligence and escaped after resolving the issue with the Intrepid Class bioneural circuitry she'd been recalled to answer. Starfleet might have publically discredited her work, yet they used the engineer at their convenience when they needed her input.

"The issue's I have down here are far from solved," Torres stated, her tone becoming hard. Which translated to Lt. Carey was giving her a hard time and enticing the Fleet crew to do the same. "The warp core is repaired and ready for use. I need to replace all of the bioneural junctions, that's fourteen hundred individual components, which means we need to use fifty five percent of the organic and inorganic reserves in the replicators. I'm taking them off line as of now to conserve resources. The quartermaster will have to start issuing ration packs until we can find replacement molecules. If the energy requirements increase, then I'm going to suggest shutting down life support to decks nine and ten. Worst case, we'll have to go into grey mode until we can resupply."

"Understood. I'll inform the Captain. Paris out." Standing, Tom pivoted to face Mr. Kim. "Rescan that moon, Ensign, for organic matter compatible with our replicator buffering systems and any minerals we might need for repairs."

The young Asian understood the Engineer's comments only too well. "Aye, Sir," he responded with a slight hitch in his tone. For a first mission, this shake down cruise proved more than Harry Kim expected. Continuing to keep one eye on the SpecOp's agent, the Ensign tried to reconcile his feelings. Tom Paris had taken charge in a situation where experience was required. So far the orders he'd given were consistent with Starfleet policy and procedure. Yet, where was the Captain and why wasn't she on the bridge. Even Lt. Tuvok had given way to Lt. Paris which confused the young man.

"Captain on the bridge," one of the young crewmen stated as the turbolift doors opened almost as if Harry's thoughts had caused Janeway to appear.

"As you were," Janeway offered with a slight smile, coming to her chair. Taking in the Lieutenant's appearance, she stated, "Mr. Paris, I see you've changed into standard uniform. It seems to be missing something."

"Missing something, Captain," he responded, making a question of the words.

"Lieutenant, I believe your collar is missing a half pip," Janeway allowed her eyebrow to rise. "As is Mr. Tuvok's. The losses from the displacement wave mean we are short on senior bridge crew. Congratulations gentlemen, on your promotions. Please make sure you are appropriately attired on you next shift."

"Aye, Captain," both Tom and Tuvok exchanged glances. This was not the opening move either expected. It placed both Lt. Commander's Paris and Tuvok technically above Chakotay as only a provisional Lt. Commander, and in that order. Yet the former Maquis been handed the first officer's post and had the job of maintaining rosters and morale. The message to the crew couldn't be clearer. Captain Janeway didn't trust Chakotay but had given him the position to calm the Maquis situation. It didn't bode well for future relations.

"Ma'am," Tom captured Janeway's attention before she could continue. "Lt. Torres has the warp and impulse engines online, however there are issues with replicating the number of bioneural interfaces."

Raising an eyebrow, Kathryn requested her Chief Navigator continue. Breaking out ration packs and decreasing energy expenditure she'd expected, just not his early in the voyage. Nodding, Janeway needed to speak with Torres again, and establish if that M class moon might have compatible resources. Turning to the operations station, the Captain requested, "report, Ensign Kim."

"We will be able to replenish eighty percent organic and sixty three percent of the inorganic molecules necessary," Harry reported, "allowing rationing of replicator usage."

Nodding her understanding, the Captain ordered, "Mr. Kim, please open a ship wide channel, voice and image."

"Yes, Captain," he complied immediately.

Standing straight, with the newly promoted Lt. Commander Paris at her side, Janeway finally addressed her crew. "Captain Kathryn Janeway to the crew of the Federation Starship _Voyager_. We find ourselves in unusual circumstances. We're alone in an uncharted part of the galaxy. We have already made some friends here, and some enemies. We have no idea of the dangers we're going to face, but one thing is clear. Both Starfleet and Maquis are going to have to work together if we're to survive. That's why I have given Lt. Commander Chakotay a provisional commission and appointed him _Voyager's_ First Officer. Mr. Paris and Mr. Tuvok have been promoted to Lt. Commander, as Chief's of Navigation and Security. Finally, Lt. Torres has been assigned Chief of Engineering. Other assignments will be forthcoming. As such, this will be one crew, acting and directed by Starfleet rules and regulations. And as the only Starfleet vessel assigned to the Delta Quadrant, we'll continue to follow our directive to seek out new worlds and explore space. But our primary goal is clear. Even at maximum speeds, it would take seventy five years to reach the Federation, but I'm not willing to settle for that. There's another entity like the Caretaker out there somewhere who has the ability to get us home a lot faster. We'll be looking for her, and we'll be looking for wormholes, spatial rifts, or new technologies to help us. Somewhere along this journey, we'll find a way back. Janeway out."

As much as Tom wanted to add a teasing remark, he knew now was not the time. Chakotay should have been standing beside the Captain while she made her ship wide address. That she'd chosen him was another subtle move to undermine both his and Chakotay's authority. Making this one crew was going to take work if the Captain and First Officer continued to make Tom Paris the meat in their sandwich.

"Do you play chess, Captain," Tom asked quietly.

"Tuvok and I often indulge in the Vulcan three dimensional version," she kept the light smirk on her face.

"I'll have to brush up on my skills then," Tom offered, "if we are going to continue to play. It's been a few years since I've faced opponents with the same level of skill and been beaten. I've learnt alternative tactics in the meanwhile."

"I look forward to engaging your unusual manoeuvres, Lt. Commander," Janeway responded. Both knew the conversation had nothing to do with a game of opposing black and white pieces. The field was as grey as the tactics each employed.

"I have found," Tom added thoughtfully, "most games end in a stalemate which seems to be a waste of time and energy. A shame really, when the opponents are unable to acknowledge neither side is better than the other. I have come to believe it is often worth the effort to share and combine tactics to increase proficiency of the game."

"That sounds like something Lt. Commander Tuvok would say," Janeway turned to the man at her side and stared at him thoughtfully. Kathryn would have to watch this young man carefully, there might be more to him than met the eye.

"I think I have a new respect to Mr. Tuvok," Tom grinned.

"I'm glad, for Mr. Tuvok is my main council," Janeway warned. "How do you feel about Mr. Chakotay?"

"Until a couple of hours ago," Tom kept the smile on his lips but it didn't reach his eyes, "I would have described us as friends. I'm not so sure that would still be the case."

"It seems you left the meeting a little early, Mr. Paris. Lt. Torres still has great respect for you, both personally and professionally. In fact she'd pledged herself as your protector against her fellow Maquis," Janeway watched for a reaction very carefully.

"That sounds like Torres," Tom couldn't help but laugh. He'd expected nothing else. "It's the Klingon side of her personality, Captain, one you and the rest of the crew will have to come to accept. Honour is something B'Elanna holds very dear, and you're going to have to earn her trust before she'll begin to see you as honourable."

"So you've managed to gain both Lt. Torres's trust and honour," Janeway asked, more that a little confused. It explained why they'd been inseparable.

"I'd say," Tom forced his expression into neutrality. No way was this woman getting a hint of the relationship between them. "My honour was never in question when I was railroaded by Starfleet into this situation. As to trust, we've spent three years in each other's company because of that same incident. So yes, I have Torres's trust, just as she had mine. I doubt any attempts you might make to either quantify our relationship or separate our loyalties will gain what you require from your Chief Engineer. And believe me, Captain, you're going to need Torres if you meant what you said to the crew about getting home."

Taking that kernel of advice and storing it for later contemplation, Kathryn changed the subject. "Mr Chakotay is currently assigning the Maquis to their new quarters, obtaining uniforms for them and handing out assignments to augment our repair efforts." Janeway's voice loud enough for the entire bridge to hear. She wanted them to see their Captain speaking with Mr. Paris as if a confident, but understand she meant what she said about Mr. Chakotay and the Maquis as additions to their crew.

"With your permission, Captain, I'd like to check on the navigational array personally. I believe we have an issue with the bioneural junction. Mr. Grimes has the con and is doing a fine job," Tom added his approval, gaining a straightening of the crewman's shoulders at the praise. "I'd like to add him to the regular pilot roster."

"That is your department, Lt. Commander. Remain available should Jabin return with reinforcements. If we are lucky enough to make it to that moon without further incident, there will be a senior staff meeting at 0800 to discuss the various departments. I want options. Dismissed," the Captain allowed, finally sinking into her chair to consider the sudden and unexpected changes that surrounded her.

* * *

 **AN:** I'm a little unsure how much of the series to incorporate into this AU. In Parallax, B'Elanna breaks Carey's nose. That could still occur, especially after Tom's words to Janeway on the bridge in this chapter. The scene with Chakotay, saying B'Elanna had made this one lousy day might also be possible. Yet the shuttle ride with Captain Janeway would go down completely differently. Let me know what you want to see. The direction the characters will not change, it's going to take time to resolve all the hurt feelings, not to mention the crews loyalties.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

Captain's log, Stardate 48328.8

I find myself stepping into quicksand. _Voyager_ , one of the most sophisticated and technically advanced ships in Starfleet has been transported seventy thousand light years by a displacement wave. We are now in the delta quadrant. The entity who brought us here is deceased, leaving us no easy or quick way home. We are stranded and the journey back to the alpha quadrant will take us seventy-five years travelling at maximum warp. I am aware it is an impossible task for my crew and ship, especially as my First, Medical and Engineering Officers were killed in action. Had we not retrieved Lt. Tuvok from his undercover mission with the Maquis, I would be without the council of another senior officer as well as contact with the Starfleet hierarchy.

The Maquis ship _Val Jean_ was stranded by the same displacement wave while we attempted to capture her and her crew as ordered by Vice Admiral Patterson. Captain Chakotay, a former twenty-year veteran and Starfleet Officer, destroyed his vessel to save _Voyager_ and both our crews. I have invited the Maquis to join our crew, under Starfleet rules and regulations as it seems the only logic choice. They have accepted for the most part, which leads to my dilemma. Of the twenty-eight new personnel, eighteen are former Starfleet Officers or crewmen and women. Their integration, from a training and discipline point of view, has be incredibly easy. In fact, after only twelve hours many have settled well and are accomplishing their duties beyond expectation. It seems their time in the Maquis has taught them not to rely on technology and make do with very little. It is an ideology my Starfleet crew will have to embrace, if we are to survive the ordeal that faces us.

There are ten Maquis that have caused my feelings of disquiet. Three have objected to the in integration but have been talked around by their colleagues. Mr. Tuvok will watch them for dissension and act accordingly should they create trouble. My issues are with the remaining seven individuals. Four have little training on a Maquis ship, let alone a Federation Starship and no idea of rules and regulations. They have been placed in non-critical positions until their fitness and knowledge improves. That leaves former Lt. Commander Chakotay, Cadet B'Elanna Torres and Special Operations Commander Thomas Eugene Paris. To say I was surprised to find a SpecOps agent on board _Val Jean_ is an understatement. It seemed Mr. Paris was on a deep cover assignment, commencing three years ago to observe Cardassian violations of the Cardassian-Federation Treaty in the demilitarised zone. It turned out, Mr. Paris was the real reason for our mission into the badlands. I was ordered by Admiral Patterson to return the agent to Starfleet headquarters with all haste. That order will be impossible to carry out.

After discussing the Maquis crew strengths and weaknesses with Mr. Paris and consulting with Mr. Tuvok, I have been forced to make the following decisions. With the death of my senior crew, I have been left with only Lt. Tuvok as a ranking officer. I have therefore promoted him to Lt. Commander, a long overdue advancement. Of his own choice, Mr. Tuvok has given Mr. Paris seniority in regard to bridge command. This is due to Mr. Paris's experience, however, on this ship, Lt. Commander Paris holds the same rank by my dictate. He would have preferred relegation to a Full Lieutenant's commission after using his SpecOp override codes to escape the brig when _Voyager_ came under attack. Appearing on the bridge in his SpecOps regalia gave him command of my ship and he acquitted himself well in the battle that saw _Val Jean_ destroyed. His rank during the episode was withheld, as per regulations, in his divisional uniform. I gave Mr. Paris the position of Chief Navigation and Helmsman as well as Senior Con Officer. He will act as my Second Bridge Officer. Because of his duties and responsibilities, I have decided to award him the rank of Lt. Commander on this vessel. Mr. Paris has complied but objected, which has been duly noted. His true rank is known only to Mr. Tuvok, myself and Cadet Torres.

Cadet Torres is another problem all together. I have read and re-read her file both before and after interviewing the young woman. It is the missing data that is essential to my understanding her position in this mess. I have attempted to quantify and qualify the relationship between Torres and Paris. So far, my observations have been that little will break the bond or even separate then. They have been together since Mr. Paris's dishonourable discharge when Ms. Torres uncovered his innocence and was prevented from graduating which lead to their incorporation into the Maquis. As a cover story it works so well because it is the truth. Mr. Paris stated Ms. Torres saw the situation as dishonourable. I'm not part Klingon, but can't help agreeing with both Torres and Paris on this point. They have been used by the very organisation they joined to protect the innocent and explore new worlds.

After establishing Ms. Torres academic expertise, my suspicions have been raised further. Why would Starfleet allow such an asset to accompany a SpecOp's agent into the field? A dangerous mission with a good probability of being killed, injured or captured. An engineer that worked on the schematics for this ship despite not graduating from the Academy and her work being discredited? A woman, when given the position of Lieutenant and Chief of Engineering has followed Starfleet protocol, rationalised the entire department and managed to not only repair but make improvements to the bioneural circuitry that has led to increased productivity, all in less than twenty hours. I suspect not one, but two young Officers were forced to become SpecOp's agents. The question I ask myself is why would Lt. Torres remain undercover on _Voyager_ , given the situation in which we find ourselves? For the moment I will allow the status quo, but I will be watching Lt. Commander Paris and Lt. Torres carefully, especially with regards to their interactions and relationship. I can't help feeling I am missing something with regard to those two.

Finally, I have given Lt. Commander Chakotay, a previous twenty-year veteran of Starfleet, including five years on an Excelsior class ship as first officer the same position on _Voyager,_ provisionally in regard to his rank. Lt. Commander's Paris and Tuvok have urged this decision as appropriate and logical respectively, increasing the chance of a smooth transition from two separate to one single crew. It creates its own issues, in that both Mr. Paris and Mr. Tuvok, technically, outrank my first officer. Further, Mr. Paris declined the position, as he has declined to have his true rank revealed. It places my command crew in an interesting position. Neither myself nor Mr. Chakotay completely trust Mr. Paris, pitting the Captain, first and second officers at odds with each other. I have Mr. Tuvok's council, as Mr. Paris seems to have Lt. Torres. I'm not sure of the situation between Mr. Chakotay and Lt. Torres, although I believe the young woman will be forced to choose her side very soon.

Mr. Paris will become a social pariah on this ship and should Ms. Torres choose to remain in his company, she might suffer the same fate or, together, they might divide the Maquis loyalty. Lt. Commander Chakotay is still angry at being deceived. He has a strong and dedicated following, although Crewman Ayala, among others, is unperturbed by Mr. Paris's affiliation with SpecOp's. Perhaps, serving together three years in a war zone is enough to overcome almost every obstacle, or become more trusting, even of a SpecOp's officer, who has saved your life and vessel numerous times. I don' know if I could forget such bravery easily. I wonder if the Maquis are going to be better prepared for what faces us in the delta quadrant due to their constant fight against overwhelming odds. They continue to survive, even in the face of certain defeat.

As to my own crew, I have been surprised by the diffidence shown Mr. Paris. The bridge crew are willing to take his orders; indeed, they have done so without question, if a little in awe and uncertainty. Mr. Kim, my just out of the Academy operations officer befriended Lt. Torres while on the Ocampa world. As Torres and Paris are together whenever possible, Mr. Kim seems to have accepted a friendship with one necessitates a friendship with the other.

Sighing as she reviewed, for the fifth time, the entry written just after midnight, following the day from hell, Kathryn Janeway considered how much had occurred in so short a time period. And how much still needed to be achieved in the coming hours, days and weeks. Eyeing the clock on the corner of her PADD, she had five minutes to finish her coffee before the start of her first senior staff meeting. Downing it, the Captain made her way through the back corridor to the conference room, taking the seat at the head of the table and waiting for her senior crew to enter. Kathryn Janeway had an inkling of the events that would follow.

Paris and Torres came in together, a smile of the pilots face while the engineer shook her head, attempting to hide her amusement. They looked as if they'd been joking in the moments prior to entering the room. In fact, Captain Janeway knew they'd breakfasted together in the mess with Mr. Kim. Without a thought the pair took chairs on one side of the table, leaving the other for Tuvok and Chakotay. The first and Tactical officers followed a few moments later, much more sombrely.

"I'm glad to see you are all on time," Kathryn smiled easily, catching the eye of of the four people as they entered the room. They nodded or murmured their greeting. "We have a lot to get through today. I want to start with the engines. Lt. Torres?"

"Impulse and warp engines are currently running at maximum efficiency," B'Elanna stated from her position beside Paris. They shared a look before Torres returned her attention to the Captain. Obviously, the woman wanted more than a cursory report. "For the moment, there are no further major repairs needed in Engineering. I can improve the output by seven to nine percent when the remaining Bioneural junctions have been replaced, however that is a long-term project."

"Tuvok," Janeway turned her attention to the Vulcan, "how are the repairs coming along?"

"So far we have addressed eighty seven percent of the ships critical issues," he stated. "Hull breaches on decks seven and nine have been sealed and hull integrity at one hundred percent. The long-distance sensor and navigational arrays are functional. The remaining repairs will require thirty-nine hours and can be accomplished in flight."

"Do you know about crew casualties?" Janeway once again asked her tactical officer, although she spared a glance at Chakotay, whose department was responsible for the crew. The man looked as though he hadn't slept. Kathryn knew Chakotay's predecessor had not performed well, leaving behind a mess that required the newly promoted officer to clean up before he could stamp his own authority on the position.

"I spoke with the EMH before entering this meeting. Only one crew member remains in sick bay," Tuvok continued easily. "Crewman Xu will be released this afternoon and off the duty roster for seventy-two hours. There are five crew currently confined to quarters on medical leave. I have given Mr. Chakotay an approximation of when they will be ready for active duty."

"Very good," Kathryn responded, glad their injuries had been so light after the loss of twenty-nine crew in the initial displacement wave. "When I read the bridge logs, I saw a note from Mr. Paris about rationing?" Janeway prompted looking to that officer.

"That was my suggestion, Captain," Torres took responsibility. "I estimate changing out fourteen hundred individual Bioneural junctions will take two months, if we don't experience any further down time for other critical repairs. We've started replicating them but have stopped while the away crews are replacing the organic and inorganic molecules for the replicator buffers from the moon. I expect the replicators to be back on line for general use in seventy-two hours, after we have completed the manufacturing process. So far, we have seven hundred and only the most critical seventy-nine junctions replaced in engineering. They require special training to extract without damaging the surrounding circuitry. I have trained and assigned Ensign's Andrews and Kyoto to this project full time."

"I had the quartermaster break out ration packs yesterday when I ordered the replicators off line," Tom added smoothly, explaining his bridge log entry. "I suggest we learn to live with the situation for a little while. Without the ability to stop at a nearby Starbase, we need to conserve resources."

"Agreed," Janeway sighed, although she'd hoped to keep the replicators on line just a little longer. Crew moral suffered proportionally with the number of days they'd be without real food.

"On the Ocampan world," Chakotay recalled, "we walked through hydroponic bays. Perhaps we could start growing some of our own fruits and vegetables here on _Voyager_."

"On _Liberty_ ," B'Elanna commented, "Hyace took over a small space in sick bay to grow that weed he needed from his native planet."

"I'd forgotten about that," Chakotay looked more thoughtful, as if considering his words very carefully. "It would make a nice addition to our diets and might be our only source of food once the ration packs run out. The Quartermaster stated we have enough dehydrated food for three months, after which it will take the same resources to replicate rations as real meals."

"That seems like a good idea," Janeway responded with a nod. "I wonder if Kes would consider starting a hydroponic garden on _Voyager_? I recall she knew the Ocampa who were tending the bays."

"Crewman Jor," Chakotay interrupted, "came from an agricultural planet. I'm sure he could be spared for one or two shifts a week to help establish a garden. There might be other crew who either wish to volunteer their time or expertise to the project."

"Very good," Kathryn nodded, thinking of the times she'd aided her grandmother to plant tomato's in the kitchen garden. _It might even be therapeutic,_ she considered. "How will replicating the required equipment effect our resources?"

"That depends on how long Voyager can remain hidden on this moon," Tuvok spoke. "If Lt. Torres can complete her project, and we establish hydroponics before departing, I believe the replicator buffer capacity for organic molecules will be full, with seventy percent inorganic components, giving us six months before the need to resupply will become critical."

"Then let's hope Jabin doesn't find us too soon," Kathryn frowned. "Chakotay, I want a rationing system for replicators and holodeck privileges commenced immediately. Let's get the crew use to the idea that resources are not infinite in the Delta quadrant." When her first officer nodded, the Captain moved on, "Where are we going to locate this hydroponic section?"

"The Captain's Yacht was never integrated into _Voyager_ before she launched," Tom stated, which elicited a raised eyebrow from the Captain. Before she could enquire about his knowledge, Paris smirked. "I studied all the shuttle craft and systems under the direction of my divisions last night. There is a very large space on deck 9A with conduits for power and water that would have housed the Yacht. Some of the systems might have to be changed to suit the new purpose, but I'm sure engineering will be able to help with the set up."

"Thanks," B'Elanna glared at the man seated beside her, "as if I don't have enough to do!"

"Come on Torres," Tom teased easily, "you love a challenge."

"Mr. Paris," Kathryn rebuked with a hard glare. She didn't need to remind him this was a Starfleet meeting and required a certain level of decorum. "I believe you can add this project to your portfolio, Lt. Commander Paris, in consultation with Lt. Torres. Liaise with Lt. Commander Chakotay in regard to personnel that can be spared, however I want this project given all possible haste. The sooner we get those plants in the ground, the sooner we have fresh produce to enjoy. Now, if we have all these fruit and vegetables, who's going to turn them into meals? There hasn't been a true galley on a Federation ship in centuries. I'm not sure if anyone is capable of cooking!"

"Neelix is out with one of the teams foraging for food. He seems to know a lot about what is edible in this quadrant," Chakotay offered. "Let's hope he can turn it into something more palatable than rations. In the Maquis, often we had to conserve energy and resources. A few of the crew brought organics on board when in port. I know Chell and Derek have the ability to create something fit for consumption, even if it didn't taste that good!"

"I'll leave interviewing our new cooks in your capable hands," Janeway nodded, off handing yet another task. "Speaking of crew, how are our newest members fitting in?"

"The EMH is concerned at the lack of a ships councillor. There will be consequences to our current situation, however the Doctor reports none at present. He has yet to conduct psychological and physical examinations on all but four former Maquis," Tuvok responded.

"I haven't heard any complaints," Chakotay added, his gaze turning to Paris and hardening, "from my people."

"Your people?" Janeway demanded with a raised eyebrow.

"Our people," Chakotay corrected. "It will take time for the Starfleet compliment to gain the trust necessary to approach me with their problems. Until then, I suggest you and Lt. Commander Paris remain open to complaints and problems."

"Acknowledged," Janeway nodded, wondering why Mr. Paris had been mentioned in this context. He seemed to have the personality to win people over easily and ferret out information. On the bridge yesterday, his inane jokes buoyed the bridge crew. Even in the words of circumstances, he didn't seem to lose his natural joviality. "Mr. Paris?"

"General grumblings in the mess hall, but nothing out of the ordinary," he smirked, "under the current conditions."

"I want all the senior staff to keep their eyes and ears opened. Even the smallest issue can become insurmountable out here," Janeway ordered.

The meeting moved on quickly. They discussed the personnel issues and who would represent operations at the next senior officers meeting. Lt. Rollins and Ensign Kim were suggested; however, both were inexperienced and the decision was left for another time. There were other gaping holes in the crew compliment, due more to their unique situation requiring a change in function of many departments. Their objective in the Delta quadrant had drastically changed from their mission in the Alpha, necessitating a revision of their purpose. Stella cartography was now critically important but woefully understaffed and the science section practically obsolete in terms of their survival. Crew would have to become flexible, many would be asked to do duty shifts outside their area of expertise in the near future.

"Sick bay?" Captain Janeway came to the end of her objectives.

"Gerron was our medic," Chakotay stated. "She never completed her training with Starfleet but I'm sure she would welcome the opportunity to continue training under the EMH."

"Make it so, Mr. Chakotay," Janeway smiled. "If there isn't anything further?"

"I'd like to create an open holodeck program, Captain," Tom offered with a cheeky smirk and boyish excitement. "A small bar from Marseille, France. I did my physical training there and discovered Sandrine's. It's intimate and about as far away from our current problems as possible. While we still have the energy, it would be nice for the crew to mix, get to know each other in a non-threatening environment, some place they could let of some steam, talk and discuss their emotions. The EMH might even be able to monitor for any physical or mental issues with the crew before they become critical. It would limit _Voyager_ to one usable holodeck, but allow for access for more crew."

Allowing an eyebrow to rise, Janeway's hackles immediately rose. Yet she knew this was an excellent idea. She also understood the person it would benefit the most would be Lt. Commander Paris. After keeping the younger man on tenterhooks, which she had to admit didn't work, she nodded her approval. "I don't want this little project to take away from your other duties, Mr. Paris."

"Yes, Ma'am," he continued to smirk, while his tone almost winked at her.

"Dismissed," she offered to the four officers. All but Tuvok got up and quickly left. "You wished to see me, Lt. Commander."

"I wish to apprise you of a report from Commander Paris," the Tactical officer responded. "He is convinced Chakotay's crew held a Cardassian spy and has provided a list of three names. He will continue to investigate this issue and report to me on his findings."

"I see," Janeway considered this information. "Are any of these former Maquis the same crew that have not taken their medicals?"

"They are," Tuvok announced. "I have ordered all three to report to sickbay as soon as they are off duty. I believe the doctors findings might be enlightening."

Waiting until her friend left, Janeway returned to her ready room. Taking another coffee from the replicator as a Captain's privilege even though they were non-functional on the rest of the ship, she would continue to live on the stimulant as long as possible. Unfortunately, the day would soon come when caffeine would be a thing of the past. Until then, she could sit on her couch, watching the stars as they orbited this moon and consider what needed to be done next.

Mr. Paris, her mind returned to the young man and his history. This morning, in the briefing, he'd seemed brash, arrogant, even a little too sure of himself. Janeway had encountered his cocky personality on the view screen and it rubbed her the wrong way. Yet, in the last few days, SpecOp's Commander Paris proved several aspects of his personality. He was intelligent, had done his homework on _Voyager's_ crew and equipment under his department's directions and achieve all this in less than twenty hours. He was open to forming friendships with both Maquis and Starfleet crew, he saw things and took opportunities others wouldn't to integrate the crew.

 _If anything_ , Janeway sighed, taking yet another sip of her coffee, _Mr. Paris's actions and the information in his sealed file only prove he could be an asset of Voyager. I understand why Patterson wanted him back. I'm just not sure I can stand the man's sarcastic wit. Yet, Chakotay held him in high esteem until uncovering his true affiliations. I saw my new first officers smile when Paris and Torres verbally sparred with each other this morning. I can only assume it happened all the time on Val Jean. You are quite a conundrum, Mr. Paris, one who deserves further consideration._

If Thomas Paris's story was to be believed, and Captain Kathryn Janeway was beginning to consider it the truth, he had been railroaded into his current position. Ms. Torres was no less a victim of circumstance. Both were proving they'd be integral to this ship's survival. Still angered by Starfleet leaving her out of the loop in regard to their situation, Kathryn Janeway knew she had to deal with her emotions or the would fester and her crew would be the poorer for her decisions. Yet now was not the time.

* * *

 **AN** : My muse has kind of gone into hibernation as I prepare for my holiday to Florida and cruise to the Caribbean. With a disabled father to care for between my brother and I, there has been so much to organise. However, we are on the final countdown to our massive 29 hour flight. My son can tell you exactly how many sleeps we have to go! I'm hoping the relaxation, sea salt and ocean waves is conducive to more writing.


End file.
